Paribus
by AoifeRua
Summary: After having been through so much trauma, how will Spencer Reid find his way to genuine love? Is it even possible to be part of a pair when you have always been a mismatch?
1. Chapter 1

Brushing back her very pale hair, the young woman exclaimed anxiously, "I'm so sorry! Oh my goodness, he knocked over your coffee, too. I'm so sorry!"

Almost as flustered as the young woman, Spencer snatched at the pile of napkins near his bag, clumsily poked them at the puddle of coffee on the table, and then stammered, "No, it is fine. Please don't worry about it."

"I'm really am sorry, but sometimes Bertie is the naughtiest dog in the world. May I please buy you another cup to replace yours?"

"There really isn't any need. I was almost done with it anyway." Nervously looking at the young woman and half shocked by his own daring, Spencer asked haltingly, "Did-did you want to sit down here? I-I don't think there are any other available tables outside. I'm almost finished so, if you want, you can have it to yourself in a moment anyway."

Responding with a grateful smile, the young woman asked with one hand on the back of the chair across from him, "Are you sure? If so, then thank you. I can't take Bertie inside. It isn't usually so crowded here this early."

Spencer held out his hand very tentatively to the spaniel, which hopped up to put its paws on his knees.

Tugging quickly on the little dog's lead, the woman demanded, "Down, Aubert!"

Spencer earnestly said, "I don't actually mind. It is a pleasant change to have a dog be so friendly."

"Bertie definitely seems to like you." The young woman sat down and then smiled brilliantly at Spencer, who reflexively pushed his glasses back and tucked his hair behind his ear.

A waitress came up just as the young woman was placing her large, formal handbag on the chair next to her. "Hello and welcome to La Fournette. My name is Kristin. Do you need another minute or can I take your order?"

"Oh! Um…do you have any of the cherry muffins still?"

The waitress shook her head. "No, I'm sorry, those sold out quickly today. We still have the blueberry walnut muffins and the banana bread."

"No, thank you. I think…maybe just the plain croissant and a hot tea. Oh, also another coffee…what sort did you have before?"

Waving his hand to indicate it was not necessary, Spencer said seriously, "No, really, I am fine."

"Ok, well, just the croissant and a tea then. Earl Grey if you have it."

The waitress looked back and forth with interest between couple at the table. She raised her eyebrows as she asked with a half-smile, "Any honey or anything?"

"No, thank you."

As the waitress walked away, the Spencer smiled awkwardly and said, "I should probably introduce myself. My name is Spencer Reid."

"Charlotte Landry-Theriault. Thank you for being so nice about everything."

"It is my pleasure. Do you, uh, do you eat here often?"

"Mm-hm. I live right near here, so it is convenient. I like to take Mister Naughty here out for a breakfast walk on Sunday when I'm back from mass."

Surprised, Spencer said, "You must attend a very early service if you have already gone to mass, changed, and taken your dog for a walk."

"Yes, I enjoy the 7 o'clock service. I like to start my day early, especially in the summer when the sun is up and happy."

"Do you usually attend the Tridentine mass?"

Charlotte looked sharply up from her purse, through which she had been digging distractedly. "What?"

"The closest church with a 7 o'clock mass is St Michael, but it is a Latin mass."

With a bright smile and an expression of surprise, Charlotte replied, "That's right. Are you Catholic, too?"

Spencer shook his head. "No. Through the course of my work I once needed to know all the mass times for the area within 30 miles of McLean."

"And you just happen to still remember?"

Slightly embarrassed, Spencer replied, "Yes. I remember everything I read. I was not really raised with religion although my mother is Catholic and my father was LDS. I have read the Bible, the book of Mormon, and the Quran as well as numerous religious works such as the Avesta, the Kitab al Hikma, and the Guru Granth Sahib. I'm open to investigation, yet, I don't currently subscribe to a particular faith."

Charlotte nodded. "Those are all good ones to have read. I assume you have also read the Talmud, the Five Classics, the Upanishads, and the Tripitaka?"

Surprised, Spencer said excitedly, "Of course. I found them all fascinating. You have read them all, too? I actually don't know anyone else who has."

"Yes, but I read quite a lot." Charlotte was silent for a moment, and then asked, "You said that you are open to investigation, but have you actually explored any faiths with a serious intention or are you merely open to it in theory?"

His voice rising as if asking a question, Spencer answered, "I, uh, I suppose that you could say it is more in theory. I'm more of a, uh, believer in science."

Speaking without sarcasm, but quiet understanding, Charlotte sighed, "Ah yes, science." Having successfully located it, Charlotte placed her book on the table next to her and asked very seriously, "Do you want to find an answer?"

Spencer bobbed his head and swallowed firmly before he replied, "In all honesty, I have not really thought about it in a long time." Suddenly uncomfortable with his answer, Spencer looked down at the red book on which the young woman's small hand was resting protectively and noted with interest that it appeared to be a liturgical work in Syriac.

"I understand. Well thank you for being so kind about my dog and everything."

Recognising a dismissal, Spencer gathered together his bag with disappointment. Yet instead of standing up, he hesitated and stammered, "You don't have to worry about it. I am not offended."

"Thank you, Spencer."

"You are very welcome."

The waitress arrived at that moment with Charlotte's tea and croissant and placed it in front of her. "Did you want any more coffee, sir?"

Spencer vacillated for a moment then he looked at Charlotte before he replied, "Yes, I think I would like another cup. Maybe to go?"

Charlotte shrugged noncommittally, but smiled at him.

Releasing the strap of his bag, Spencer said, "On second thought, I think I might also have a slice of banana bread."

Surprised, the waitress asked, "To go?"

First throwing another questioning glance at Charlotte, who was still smiling, he boldly replied, "No, I'll have it here, please."

* * *

Which one? Orthographies covering the Palmyrene alphabet to the Pahlavi script…texts in Attic or Ionic Greek…a treatise on Vulgar Latin across North Africa… No, surely she had nearly everything on all of her languages of study. Maps? He had no idea if she had any interest in geography, but a linguistic map perhaps… How did one even find such a thing?

Spencer shoved aside the stack of books he had finished that week and stood up from the table where he had been contemplating a catalogue. As much as he despised even the concept of an Amazon-type website, he had to admit it would probably find what he wanted faster. Nevertheless, he was going to trust Jacob from whom he had bought unusual and interesting books for over ten years. It was probably best just to go and talk to him. The languages of ancient Palestine were something he had only spent the last month studying. He was hardly an expert like Charlotte. Jacob would know the right book or the right person to ask. In fact, Spencer felt he owed Jacob in a way. It was his routine of eating breakfast and reading at La Fournette every 3rd Sunday of the month until Jacob's bookstore opened that had him in the right place and time to meet her.

He had hoped at least to select something before he left to meet her—even though he wouldn't actually have it in hand for their date. His little offering for this evening seemed destined to fail, but he really didn't know what else to get. Charlotte was an overtly feminine woman, who always wore exceedingly expensive-looking lacy or silky things that he certainly could not afford. He suspected that the earrings she had been wearing on their first date had cost more than his car. He only knew that he needed to bring something and she had one of these little ribbon things tied onto her handbag the day they had met. It was imperative that she knew he had been thinking of her in the time since their date. She had said that she understood his need to postpone when they got a case, but it had ended up being nearly two weeks. It was critical to be sure she didn't think that he was uninterested.

Bending down to look in the mirror, Spencer ran his hands through his hair and frowned with resignation at what he saw. She was extraordinarily conservative and very traditional. He could hardly be the type of man she typically dated. Bizarre hair, unstylish clothing, and ancient car…he was definitely not a successful alpha male type like her brother. Shrugging on his coat and slamming the door, Spencer then jogged down the stairs of his building and hurried outside to look for his car. He was going to be late if he did not start soon. The drive to Annandale was going to take at least an hour at this time of day.

The trip, which actually took 15 minutes longer than expected due to the rain, seemed interminable. His excitement at seeing Charlotte again was nearly unbounded. If he was honest with himself, he wanted to _see_ her almost as much as he wanted to talk with her. They had spoken on the phone a few times, but, as exciting as the conversations were, it was not the same as being face to face. Charlotte's mind was creative, quick, and extremely clever. He thought with a smile of the sound of her soft, Southern voice the night before telling him excitedly about an opportunity she might have to handle the original of a Phoenician document that she had not yet examined. Spencer had to be honest that he was thrilled with the discussions that her intelligence had allowed them to have. Yet although her mind exhilarated him, her beauty was impossible for him to ignore.

His thoughts were filled with memories of her quiet, happy smile as she listened to him talk, her petite hands gesturing expressively when she talked about her siblings, her bright blue eyes flashing with humour when he told a joke that most people wouldn't have even understood, and her musical laugh when she had realised that he had sat on her hair yet again. She had laughed like that again the night before when they had talked in preparation for the date. She had promised to pin her hair up securely so it wouldn't get in the way. Without even thinking he had said, "No, please don't." He had not even realised how attractive he found such unusually long hair until confronted with her startled question, "Oh. Do you like it better down?" Equally surprised, Spencer had emphatically answered, "Very much. You look so beautiful." That was when she had laughed with delight at the compliment. He hoped that he could make her laugh like that again tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

"Spencer, good to see you again so soon. Did you get the catalogue?"

"Hello Jacob. Yes, but I think that I'm going to need your help to find what I am looking for."

The man behind the counter stroked his bright yellow beard as he replied, "Not a problem. That's why I'm here. What exactly are you looking for?"

Quite uncomfortable, Spencer attempted to explain. "Well…it's a gift. I need a book for a girl that I have been seeing. She has a very specific area of study, but she most likely has everything in her subject already. I'm not sure what to get. She apparently reads very little fiction."

With a knowing laugh, Jacob answered, "Ah. A gift for a girl. Unusual sort of girl if you are coming to me, my friend. What's her subject?"

"Northwest Semitic Linguistics and Philology of early Christian writings. That is why I am thinking I want something relating to ancient Syria-Palestine."

Placing his hands firmly on the edge of the counter in front of him, Jacob looked with surprise at Spencer. "Well I'll be d***ed. Charlotte Theriault."

"What?"

"About five feet nothing, hair like Rapunzel, and a silly little Louisiana drawl that tricks you into thinking she probably hasn't read anything more challenging than Vogue magazine?" Seeing Spencer's flushed cheeks, Jacob teased, "Yeah, you're dating Charlotte Theriault."

Spencer's voice nearly squeaked as he asked anxiously, "You know her?"

"She is an excellent customer—even better than you. She only lives around the corner. She's a brilliant woman, so I shouldn't be surprised but...I think I am."

Spencer slid his bag off and placed it next to a tall stack of books in front of him. He wasn't sure that he wanted to know, but he asked anyway. "Why do you say that?"

"It really isn't my business. I guess that I thought she was pretty restricted by her family. They belong to one of those crazy Catholic groups that act like it is still 1950. Those kinds of people freak me out. She's nice looking and extremely intelligent, but I wouldn't recommend getting mixed up with those people. It is like a cult."

"I think that Charlotte's family is extremely religious, yes. However, she is aware that I am not."

"As I said, it isn't my business. I hope that you and she will be happy together. Now then, I think that I might actually have just the book for you. Follow me. I'll have to get it out from the back stacks."

* * *

"I hate college students. All of them. I'm going to move to Bermuda and live on the beach."

Dropping her pen onto her desk, Charlotte looked up at her friend and said with a little laugh, "What have they done now?"

"Cheated, the little buggers. I have found five students with suspiciously similar answers on their exams."

"Well there are only so many ways you can do O Chem, Pips. I would think they would all look a bit similar."

"No, honey, they are all suspiciously similar _wrong_ answers."

Charlotte flushed with embarrassment for the students, "How sad that they felt the need to do that! What are you going to do? Oh I just hate when I find cheating."

Philippa looked at her friend with affection and dropped onto the chair in front of Charlotte's desk. "I know, dear, because you are sweet and nice. I am not. I have failed all five of the little bastards and don't feel even a bit guilty. I'm just angry that they would insult my intelligence."

"I understand that, too. When those two girls cheated three years ago I was just eaten up with worry about failing them. But I didn't feel nearly as bad when that little stinker slipped a cheat sheet into the final exam last year. Remember? He actually told me it was my fault for making the exam so difficult. Ugh! If he found Ancient Greek so impossible then perhaps he should have reconsidered pursuing a degree in Classics."

"You still felt horrid about failing him, Charlotte. I seem to remember you getting all weepy about it several times. You are far too nice."

Charlotte shrugged as she replied, "I suppose. Charlie also seemed to think I was silly for pitying the kid."

"Well I don't think your brother often pities anyone, does he? He's a bit brutal. Although that is probably quite a necessary character trait for someone who got himself elected a senator at 38—even with all of your family's connexions behind him. Anyway, I don't want you to change. I love you just the way you are, dear. Besides, if you weren't so sweet then you wouldn't put up with me or tangentially subsidise my extravagant lifestyle." Philippa blew a kiss at her friend and then slumped back into her chair with exhaustion.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Don't tease. Is it really six already?"

"Yes and I'm starved. Do you have heaps more exams to mark?"

"I do. I really am going to have my TA do them next semester."

Philippa pulled a face and replied sarcastically, "Right. You say that at the end of the every semester."

"I mean it this time. If I don't finish grading them tonight then I won't have any time at all this weekend."

"Ohhhh! So that's what is going to make you finally learn proper time management? Anyone else shoves everything they can do onto their TAs. Not you, at least not until _Spencer_ came on the scene."

Charlotte bit her lip and looked away with embarrassment. "You know why I never did, Pips. I hated how much Marków expected me to do nearly everything short of getting his dry cleaning. I didn't want to treat my own grad students that way. However, Spencer mentioned that one of the ways that you learn how to be a good professor is experience when you are a grad student. The more I thought about it, the more I realised that he is right."

"Ah, yes, the sage advice of the boyfriend is far weightier than that of colleagues, best friends, or brothers."

Charlotte flushed hotly. "He isn't exactly my boyfriend."

"No? Darling, you are such a little innocent. The man is wild about you."

"Well we've only had two real dates, Pips."

Philippa laughed gently. "In addition to the day you met when you spent four hours talking at La Fournette. And how often does he call you?"

"Twice a week."

"Yes, for the last two months. And why isn't it more?"

"Because I told him I didn't have time."

Philippa nodded and continued in the sort of voice one uses to explain things to children. "Right. Who do you know besides yourself that has received a real, genuine love letter by actual old-fashioned post?"

Charlotte stammered, "It was just a sweet note."

Shaking her head, Philippa firmly declared, "A love letter. And how about the peonies he keeps sending?"

"Yeah, I know. Those are so sweet, aren't they? I don't think that I mentioned they were my favourite either, so how did he know?"

"It isn't like you have a best friend who lives with you."

Rather disappointed, Charlotte asked, "Oh. He asked you?"

"No, silly. When he came to collect you that first night he just stood there looking as awkward as a man can possibly look—flushed pink and blinking nervously—as he waited for you to be ready. I told him that roses are for amateurs and suggested he use his famous FBI profiling skills to figure out what you really like. Since you came in the room shortly afterwards and, from what I saw, thereupon completely disrupted any of his higher order thinking, he must have done a pretty fast job of it."

"But I loved the rose corsage he had brought. Why did you say that?! Please don't be unkind to him, Pips. He isn't like most men."

"Well obviously. He's unusual to say the least."

Charlotte made a gesture of appeal to her friend as she said, "I mean it. He has never said so, but I kind of think that he has had a lot of people treat him badly in his life. From the way he discusses his friends at the BAU, I don't think he had friends before he worked there. Something he said once makes me think he might have been badly bullied. You shouldn't tease him. He doesn't understand you like I do."

"He is rather an odd duck, dear. I'm not really shocked that he has a difficult time making friends."

"Well I think he is wonderful." Charlotte slapped her hand over her mouth in surprise and, after a moment, said, "Oh I do, don't I?"

Philippa smiled affectionately at her friend. "Very obviously so. You practically float out of the room whenever he phones. Whenever you talk about him, which is all the s*dding time actually, you have this silly little smile on. If I weren't confident that he is even more mad about you then I'd be quite concerned."

"Do you think he really cares that much about me? Really?"

"My goodness, dear, we aren't teenagers. You can't really be that unsure of how to tell if a man is into you."

"Pips, you know I have almost no experience at all. I went on one failed date in grad school. I went on two dates right after I finished my initial PhD with someone Charlie thought I ought to like. I had coffee last year with that guy who is in my reading group. Then there is Spencer."

Philippa frowned. She was all too aware of how ludicrously protective and dictatorial Charlotte's family were about dating and relationships. It had surprised her immensely when she had found out that Charlotte was dating a non-Catholic without her family's knowledge. "What about Jonathan?"

"Uh, no. Nope. Οὐδέποτε. Numquam. He is one of Charlie's colleagues, who my brother kept dragging over to the house. There was never anything I liked about Jonathan."

Surprised at Charlotte's vehemence, Philippa stated, "Jonathan sure liked you."

"I don't care. The people of his district can re-elect him all they want, but I think he is a creep. Just…ick."

"Okay then. Right, well why don't you bung your papers into your case, snatch up your bag, and we will get in the car. On the way home I will give you a little talk about boys and girls and how to tell when they like each other. Ok?"

Charlotte sighed. Quickly opening up a green ostrich skin briefcase, she shovelled her students' exams into it and then reached for her handbag. "You are so condescending sometimes, Pips. I am 28 years old."

"Chronologically yes, but compared to me you are an innocent babe. It's time someone taught you something, especially if you are going to get all silly about your FBI nerd. He might be a very nice sort of boffin, dear, but he is still a man and he wants a whole lot more than friendship. With your religious beliefs and dating style being essentially a strange mix of the mediaeval and Victorian, you are going to get yourself into trouble if we don't sort out a few things soon."

Now very annoyed, Charlotte replied sarcastically, "I can set boundaries with Spencer all by myself, you know. I'm quite a grown-up girl. I even pay my own bills and everything."

"Do you? I thought Bobby still did that."

Charlotte slammed the door to the car and spun round to face her friend, who was climbing in next to her. "Why are you being so rude?"

Philippa shrugged. "Because I'm a horrid cow." Sighing with resignation and looking very seriously at her friend, she continued, "I am actually trying to be honest and helpful though. Firstly, I think that Spencer would do anything that you want. If you don't want a future with him then it is cruel to string him along."

"I'm not! I don't know what I think for sure, but I really do like him. Quite a lot, in fact."

"Right then, now for the second item. Will your family support this relationship? He isn't Catholic, so it seems unlikely. If not, then what happens? When was the last time that you did anything that your brothers, or that stroppy witch you call your sister, did not approve?"

Charlotte frowned at Philippa's description of her sister, but did not correct her. "I don't know for sure what my family would do. I have worried a lot about that. I think that we have a bit of time before I have to face that decision though."

"My dear, how difficult would Therese make things? Maybe Thom would accept a relationship with a non-Catholic because he really can't tell you no, but I cannot imagine Bill would. He thinks that they were rather overly lax during the Spanish Inquisition."

Charlotte did not reply for a moment as she focussed on turning onto the next street. "They are both priests. I cannot see how either of them could support me if I wanted to marry Spencer as things are now."

"I love that the man who you claim is not really your boyfriend is the same one you are talking about marrying."

"I'm not saying that we are getting married now. I just…ugh, Pips. You make things so hard. I would not date a man that I could not see possibly marrying. Therefore, I do worry if I ought to date him. I fear whether we could really ever be together. I do know that his mother had him baptised, but that was all. He says she never really attended mass when he was a child. I suppose I ought to be grateful that his father didn't impose his faith on Spencer before he left."

"Why not? Did he belong to some strange cult or something?"

"No, nothing like that. He was Mormon, I think. I just mean that technically Spencer is a baptised Catholic with no ties to another church, which might make things easier."

"Technicalities don't really count, dearest. He is an atheist or as good as, right?"

"I don't think so, but he certainly isn't a believer. We have not discussed it. I told him that when he was ready we would discuss faith and theology. Until then, he knows that I am deeply concerned about him, but that I will leave it up to him to investigate the Church."

As Charlotte pulled the car into the garage, Philippa sighed and commented drily, "This means you are probably doubling up on the novenas, but you are otherwise hiding away from the truth."

"I'm not hiding from anything. I am horribly concerned about him and worried about whether I am making a terrible decision by continuing to see him."

Philippa watched her friend carefully before replying. She could see the strong emotions playing across Charlotte's tense face and waited for a moment until Charlotte had better control. "I only want you to think about what choosing a relationship with Spencer would mean for you."

"I don't want to think about that anymore, please. Can't we just go inside and worry about dinner?"

"I'll organise dinner in a bit, ok? You really need to think about these things now if you are going to continue this relationship. Apparently he travels all the bloody time, so you would often be alone. If you are on poor terms with your family then you will be even more alone. Since your faith is the single most important thing in your life, I really cannot see how you can marry a man for whom it means little. What will happen when Spencer doesn't care about meatless Fridays, days of obligation, or praying daily rosaries as a family? You will always sit alone with the children at church. You are one of seven children. Will he want a bus load of kids?"

Charlotte did not respond, but sat for nearly five minutes with the car parked and music still playing. Finally she pressed the button for the garage door, got out of the car, slammed the door, and ran into the house. With a sigh, Philippa grabbed both hers and Charlotte's bags and entered the house.

* * *

Spencer dropped the book he had been reading onto the table in front of him and fell back against the cushions of his sofa. He had tried, but it wasn't working. He saw the logic that Dr Hahn had used, but it did not persuade him. Neither was he in total disagreement. Frankly, none of the books that he had read seemed to contain whatever it was he needed. There was a missing piece somewhere.

This last case had been brutal. At one point in his life, he would have handled his emotions better. He would have been able to detach and remain focussed. However, there had been so many things that made this case difficult. It was extremely personal for him to witness a case of such severe mental illness compounded by complete incompetence by a mental health professional. There was no way to remain objective. In fact, despite what he had told the FBI therapist before his reinstatement, so much had happened to him in the last 14 years that he almost felt like a different person. He had been kidnapped and tortured. He had been infected with anthrax. He had been shot. He had killed more than once, albeit in self-defence. He had become a drug addict. He had been accused of murder and sent to prison. His mother had been kidnapped because of him. He had failed to save the love of his life from being murdered before his eyes.

Spencer got up from the sofa and wandered over to his kitchen. He knew there was at least one more cup of coffee in the pot and he needed it. He had to come to a decision and he really didn't know how he was going to do it. How was he ever going to tell her the truth about all of that?

It was strange being the older one. All his life he had been the youngest person in the room. He had been 22 when he joined the Bureau, but had looked so young that Gideon had insisted on introducing him as Dr Reid anywhere they went. Now at 36, he was eight years older than Charlotte, who was the one having trouble getting the respect she deserved. However, Charlotte had simply—and wholly without rancour—said that as a very petite blond Southern woman under 30 she was used to unflattering assumptions being made most especially in the academic environment.

He now had a smartphone, which was something he had hoped he would avoid forever. On principle Spencer had refused to pay for data services, but now he could store pictures and her texts to take with him on BAU cases. The ability during moments of stress to read and reread all the little messages that she sent him was worth going against his strong feelings about both Apple and smartphones in general. Flicking quickly to the picture that he wanted to see, Spencer then turned off his phone and settled back into the sofa with his eyes closed. He was surprisingly concerned about the age difference. It was not something that he had considered when he was younger. Maeve had been older than him, but that had not mattered at the time. Now…he wondered.

Perhaps it was less their ages and more the differences in life experience that was likely to become a problem. Spencer recognised that he was cycling back to his desperate concerns regarding how to tell her about his past. She was unusually sheltered and naive for a woman of her age. Her life had been largely managed by her domineering brothers and sister. In his opinion, they had used both their control over the immense family wealth and her natural need to please to bend Charlotte to their will. She was not even allowed to live alone, despite having holding a professorship at Catholic University. It might have been impossible for the family to control her immense intellect, but he did not think that it was a coincidence that she had turned her brilliance onto a religious subject instead of anything else. In this way Bobby, Charlie, and the others could keep Charlotte inside their strict religious world. Traditionalist girls were not supposed to obtain their first doctorate at 22. They were rarely even expected to do more than finish an undergraduate degree before marrying and then home-schooling multiple children.

Spencer stood up and began pacing a well-travelled path through his sitting room. Did he have any right to pursue her? He knew that she enjoyed their conversations, but he could not allow her to believe that he was someone he was not. If she did not know about his past then he was lying to her. Regardless of how either circumstance came about, he was a recovering drug addict and had been in a maximum security prison for 3 months. All the other things that he experienced would make her sad for him, but she would be able to understand as part of his job. Drugs and prison…these two would shock her immensely. Was he actually being selfish to consider subjecting her to the damaged man that he had become?

After several minutes spent staring blindly out his window, Spencer twitched the curtain closed and flopped back on his sofa. He needed sleep badly, but it probably wasn't going to happen. He knew all the alarms on the windows and doors of his bedroom would alert him if his mother tried to leave. He felt safe enough sleeping now. It just didn't seem likely that he could. His mind was racing like a luge sled on a dangerously steep track. No matter the many experiences before that caused him anxiety, fear, or nightmares, he had never experienced the depth of terror, darkness, and anger that he had during and after his imprisonment.

Cat had been wrong about him, but he still feared whether he might become someone he did not want to be. He didn't really know how he should restructure his life. If he built himself up around Charlotte and she did not stay, then he was not sure that he could manage to rebuild himself again. Healing the fractures in his mind, remaking his routine, rekindling his faith in goodness, and reviving a hope in a real future for himself was taking so much more than it ever had before. More than choosing to live without Dilaudid, more than the moment he discovered his mother had Alzheimer's disease, more than when he lost what he believed was his only chance at love…too much more. He wasn't sure that he could go through this ever again. Choosing to pursue Charlotte was probably the riskiest thing that he could do.

Spencer tugged the blanket up over his legs and leant back into his pillow. He then pulled his phone back out and found the picture again. Decision made, he shoved the phone back under his pillow. No, it was more of a realisation. He was past the point where there was a choice.


	3. Chapter 3

Spencer pushed his hair out of his eyes and tried to read the emotions playing across Charlotte's face. His anxiety was nearly overwhelming as he waited to hear her reply.

"Prison? But that doesn't make sense. You were only accused, not convicted. Also, as a federal agent, shouldn't you have been isolated from the general population? I don't understand, Spencer. Have you told me the whole story?"

He nodded and rubbed both his temples as if to ward off a headache. "I was supposed to be held in the jail. It is pretty convoluted. I will explain it to you now if you want, but I would really prefer to discuss that later. There was a huge amount of politics behind why I was left in the general population of a maximum security prison before a trial. When exculpatory evidence was presented, the AUSA still didn't want to entertain the idea that I was innocent. Luckily, the judge disagreed and I was released. I was completely exonerated. I assure you that I had no part in the crime, Charlotte."

Charlotte scooted closer to Spencer on the stone garden bench. "Well of course you weren't guilty. Spencer, I know you could never commit a crime. I just cannot imagine how terrifying and horrible that experience must have been. Maximum security prison! Spencer, I'm so sorry." She reached out and covered his fidgeting right hand with both of hers and said, "I'm sorry you had to go through that. You didn't deserve it."

Spencer looked down at her with gratefulness, but replied uneasily, "Thank you. I wish that was all I have to tell you, but it isn't."

"Is it more about when you were in the prison?"

He forced himself to watch her, as he explained, "No. There _is_ more about the time in prison, however, so I might as well tell you that first. I had to do some things that I would never have dreamt I would do in order to survive."

"Criminal things?" Charlotte looked up at him with wide, shocked eyes as she waited for him to reply.

Spencer replied baldly, "Yes."

Charlotte took a deep breath and then sighed. "Did you have to hurt people?"

He answered in a strangled voice, "Yes. The other prisoners had killed my friend and beaten me severely, so I would be forced to help them move their drugs inside the prison."

"No! Spencer, they killed your friend?"

"Yes. I knew that I would be killed as well if I did not do what they wanted. Therefore, I poisoned the drugs, since I knew they would test them before they passed them on to other inmates."

"Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness, did they die?"

Spencer shook his head and replied very quietly, "No. They were just very sick."

Charlotte took a deep breath and began to cry silently. "I don't know how to handle what you are saying. I believe you that you had no other choice and that it was self-defence, but it is terrifying to think of you poisoning people."

"It was terrifying for me, too. I can promise you that I never could have imagined doing something like that. I think about it every day."

Charlotte nodded. "I believe that. I do. I just need to process what you told me. Except…didn't you say that you had something more to tell me that did not have to do with the prison?"

Spencer shoved his hands in his hair and stood up abruptly. "Yes. I-I need a minute." He walked away from her towards several of the large plants that surrounded a bench opposite from them. After a few minutes of wandering around the secluded corner of the botanical gardens, Spencer continued, "Okay. Ten years ago, I was taken hostage by one of the unsubs in a case. The man had been horribly abused by his father, which led him to develop Dissociative Identity Disorder. In one alternate personality he was his own father, who had forced him to kill him. In another he was the angel Raphael. In the last he was his original personality. In that personality he injected me with Dilaudid and hallucinogens to make the torture I received at the hands of the father personality more bearable."

Charlotte was staring at Spencer with an expression of horror and concern. "So awful. Spencer, you have been through way too much for one person."

"That actually isn't the end. He injected me with so much and so often that I was addicted by the time the ordeal was over. I got clean and I have been sober 10 years, but I am still a recovering drug addict. I always will be. The temptation to use is always present when I experience something difficult and painful."

Astonished, Charlotte asked, "Do you think that you could, I mean, that it would ever…do you still fear that you could use? Is it a genuine risk?"

Spencer sadly peered down at her and replied, "It is a genuine risk, but I think you are asking if it is likely. I do not think that it is likely, no. However, something you learn in recovery is that you cannot let your guard down. People can relapse after decades clean. I can promise you wholeheartedly though that I have no desire to use again. I know that I would lose everything that matters most to me."

Charlotte did not look up at him, but stared at her tightly clasped hands for some time before replying. "I understand that you did not choose it. The drugs were forced on you. I don't think that you can be blamed for struggling afterwards. I'm just afraid what that means, Spencer. I could never be with someone who uses drugs. I could never bring children into a family where drug use would be present."

"Neither could I. I know exactly what a bad father can do to a child. If I am ever privileged enough to have a child then I will never allow myself to do that. Parenting is the most important job there is."

"You believe that?"

Frustrated, Spencer firmly replied, " _Of course_ I believe that. I do not know if I will ever have a child, but if I do then I would devote myself to my child's welfare. Any decent man would do the same."

Still refusing to meet his eyes, Charlotte fiddled with the chain of her small, quilted ivory bag for a moment. Then she responded flatly, "You have higher standards for decency than many people, Spencer."

Nearly successful at keeping the anger and hurt out of his voice, Spencer exclaimed, "Despite having spent time in prison and being a recovering drug addict, I hope that I can still recognise right and wrong, Charlotte. If I cannot separate good and evil then I have really lost myself."

Curling her legs up beside her on the stone bench, Charlotte watched Spencer for several moments. He was more agitated and raw than she had ever seen him. She wondered briefly how much all of his experiences as part of the BAU had changed him. Who had he been when he was her age?

His voice now full of anguish, Spencer rasped, "What are you thinking, Charlotte? I need to know if all of this is too much for you. Is it more than you can manage?"

"No, I don't think so, but it is definitely a lot. As I said, I need to process all of this. However, I don't think that it changes my interest in you. I had already realised that you are a very complex man, Spencer. There is a lot about you for me still to learn."

Clearing his throat nervously, Spencer waited, hoping for her to continue. Finally he said, "Ok."

Charlotte barely acknowledged his reply with a slight tilt of her head. It was nearly a minute more before she said, "I just cannot allow myself to focus only on the thrill of finding a man who can talk intelligently for hours like you do about nearly anything. Neither can I afford to get caught up in a fantasy. You are a real, complicated, and quite unique person, Spencer. I do want to know more about who you truly are."

Spencer dropped onto the bench beside Charlotte and looked intently at her. "You do? Really?"

"Yes. Are there things that you want to know about me? Perhaps some things that you want to ask, but have been too uncomfortable to do so?"

"Yes, but I think that we have covered enough emotional ground tonight."

Charlotte's eyebrows drew together in consternation. "Did you think that telling me these things would mean that our relationship would end tonight?"

He bluntly replied in a voice filled with humiliation, "Yes."

"I see." Charlotte shook her head slightly and added, "I think that you had better ask me what you need to know. We ought to finish hashing things out now."

Spencer stood up again and faced away from her as he stated, "I don't even know how to formulate the questions. I have had so little experience with romance and relationships."

"Neither have I."

"No, I understand that, but I am 36 years old and my only kiss was at 23 with an actress I barely knew. My only relationship was conducted five years ago entirely by payphone and letters. It ended with her murder before I could even hold her hand. That is the sum total of my romantic experience. Quite frankly, I'm an awkward man, Charlotte. I don't know what you are expecting from me, but I don't pick up on social cues easily. I literally do not know how to be the right man for you. Although I really think that I would do anything, if I knew it was what I was supposed to do."

"Okay, but then what are you asking? Have I done something wrong?"

Clearly agitated that he was not managing the conversation better, Spencer stammered, "Charlotte, I-I am not criticising anything. Not at all. I just meant that we have been talking on the phone twice a week and then going to dinner, taking walks, and attending lectures together nearly every week for three months now. Although, like I said, I'm not good at reading certain things, nevertheless I'm pretty sure that I'm not doing things right for you."

"I'm so sorry that I have made you feel that way, but I'm not sure why you do. I have really enjoyed our time together. In fact, I look forwards to our dates all week. What you told me this evening has not changed my interest."

Spencer shoved his hands deep into his pockets and tilted his head as he said, "I am grateful that my history has not scared you off. I'm not sure that I deserve that."

"What do you want to ask me, Spencer?"

He cleared his throat and then almost croaked out, "Is this—our relationship—real for you?"

Charlotte looked up sharply and asked, "Real? Do you mean if I am playing with you?"

Spencer sat down heavily beside her. "No. No, of course not. I meant to ask if you can see this going somewhere. I know that we come from such different backgrounds. I am not sure if we have the same expectations for the future. I've been largely responsible for myself since I was 10. I know that is very different from your experience."

Charlotte raised her eyebrows and replied drily, "Very."

Spencer sighed, looked at her hopelessly, and said very quietly, "I think that for us to have a relationship you would have to go against your family's wishes wouldn't you?"

Charlotte looked away from him as she answered, "Yes, that is correct."

Spencer whispered, "I don't know if I can be worthy of that, Charlotte."

She nodded and took a deep breath before replying, "I see."

"Your family is so important to you. If I were to cause trouble with them for you…"

Still glaring into the darkness of the gardens around them, Charlotte interrupted angrily, "Oh our relationship will definitely do that, Spencer. You have no idea how ugly it will be."

"Then that is why I am asking if you see this going somewhere."

Charlotte stood up abruptly. "What do you _want_ , Spencer? If you _don't_ want to continue seeing me then you should just say so! I will not do your dirty work for you."

"No! No, not at all. Please Charlotte, I definitely want to keep seeing you. I will always want that." When she did not turn around, Spencer tentatively put his hand lightly on her back, but dropped it immediately when he felt her tense up. "I know how I feel about you and what I am hoping for. However, I don't know what you want."

Charlotte crossed her arms across her chest, but said nothing. Finally, realising that she was crying, Spencer tried again to get her to turn around by placing his hand on her shoulder. "Don't cry, please. I'm so sorry. I did not mean to hurt you."

Charlotte sniffled and then whispered, "I'm really not used to physical contact with a man."

Spencer quickly pulled away in consternation, murmuring, "I'm so sorry!"

Charlotte wiped her cheek with one hand as she continued, "I am one of those weird super-religious girls, Spencer. We are supposed to move glacially slow physically, but sprint to the altar. I never thought that I would date someone who was not like me, let alone someone who was not even a Catholic."

"You are not weird, Charlotte. You merely have different traditions than I do. Would you please explain what your cultural expectations are for a relationship? I don't want to make any mistakes with you."

"You haven't made a mistake, Spencer. It's just that we should not have much physical contact until we are engaged, when we are allowed to kiss, but that's all. It is ok to hold hands a little if we are very serious, of course. However, that is all."

Stunned, Spencer said, "Okay. I definitely did not understand that your belief system was that restrictive. May I ask what constitutes a serious relationship?"

"Um…I really don't know. I just guess when you are considering marriage? I suppose each couple defines that themselves."

"Okay. All right, I think that I understand." Spencer pulled away completely and sat with his arms crossed tightly in front of him.

Charlotte swallowed convulsively, as she tried to keep her composure. After several minutes of total silence, she said very quietly, "Maybe it would be better if I go home and let you have time to think about things."

"No I already know what I want, Charlotte. It is you that I am not certain about. I am hardly a man with a wealth of experience."

"Okay."

"I have been trying to take my cues from you. However, I have never been sure if I understood you correctly. I thought it was quite possible that you didn't care for me as much as I do you."

"No, I do. I like you _so_ much, Spencer."

Spencer pursed his lips together as he searched Charlotte's face in an attempt to read her sincerity. "I have never had this kind of relationship before. I know that I don't want to be away from you and that I think about you so often that I can't focus on my work sometimes. Frankly, I'm in love with you."

Shocked, Charlotte's head snapped up and she asked breathlessly, "Already?"

"Honestly, I have felt this way since the day we met, Charlotte. I am comfortable with whatever you need for us to do. I certainly don't want to do anything that would hurt you. I would probably do anything to keep seeing you. Anything except be dishonest with you. I cannot promise you that I will ever be able to accept the claims of your faith. I won't pretend that."

Charlotte slid closer to him on the bench. "I don't want you to pretend anything. I cannot accept any dishonesty, Spencer. If our relationship were to continue, then you would have to follow all of my weird rules and traditions including waiting just to hold my hand. It isn't fair to you, but it is the only option."

"I can wait for anything, but would you actually consider a future with me?"

"Of course I would."

Spencer smiled slightly and looked past the roses into the dark. After a few minutes of silence and contemplation, he asked further, "You would want to be with me even if your family disapproves? Can you possibly see yourself one day married to me despite that?"

"Are you seriously asking, Spencer?"

Staring at her with obvious confusion and extreme nervousness, Spencer replied, "Yes."

With a satisfied nod, Charlotte softly answered, "Then yes."

Spencer stammered, "You do?"

"Yes."

Spencer watched her for a moment and then replied dazedly, "You would really want to marry me?"

Her expression changing dramatically, Charlotte pulled back and replied guardedly, "Yes, Spencer."

Taking several rapid, shallow breaths, Spencer looked down at Charlotte and then suddenly put both hands around hers and said, "I want to kiss you."

Charlotte's face flushed as she mumbled, "Mm-hm."

Several moments later, Spencer pulled away enough to attempt to gauge Charlotte's reaction. He saw her gazing up at him with an uncertain look so he felt a terrifying lurch in his stomach until she sighed and said, "I love you."

Emboldened, Spencer placed his arms all the way around her and pulled her to him for another longer kiss.


	4. Chapter 4

"You have finally, truly lost the plot."

Her arms wrapped protectively around her knees as she sat with her legs pulled up to her chest, Charlotte murmured, "I knew that you would say that."

In a tone like she was talking to a naughty child, Philippa exclaimed, "You barely know the man. I don't mean that he is not madly in love with you. I simply mean that you don't know enough about him. Have you and he discussed any of the things that I mentioned? How enthused is he about the prospect of Natural Family Planning? Is he aware that your Sunday restrictions mean no shopping, bookstores, museums, or chores of any sort on fully 50% of his weekend? Just how detailed was your discussion about gender roles?"

Charlotte bit her lip unhappily, as she heard her friend's criticism. Then she admitted quietly, "We didn't talk about any of that. We talked about some of the really scary stuff in his past though—none of which I would have ever expected. It was all pretty shocking. Spencer has been kidnapped and tortured. He has both been shot and had to shoot someone in self-defence. Also, he is a recovering drug addict."

Philippa shook her head as she said reprovingly, "Charlotte!"

"I know. I _am_ worried about a future relapse, Pips. Then last year he was in prison awaiting trial for months before he was exonerated. I will never mention the drugs to my family, but I cannot hope to keep his arrest and imprisonment a secret. Honestly, I don't think that Charlie or Bobby will care that Spencer was unjustly accused. All that will matter to them is that my fiancé spent months in the general population of a maximum security prison, however unfairly it happened."

Philippa gasped. "Prison, Charlotte? You don't go to prison unless you are convicted, do you? Or are things done that differently in America?"

Charlotte rested her chin on her knees as she replied, "It isn't really supposed to happen, but apparently it sometimes does when jails have insufficient space. However there were substantial abuses in Spencer's case."

Taking a deep breath and sighing sharply, Philippa said, "Right. So let us take a moment and revise all the salient points of interest here. You are engaged to a man you have known for a very short while. He is a former dopehead, he has been in prison, and you have no idea how he feels about all the weird parts of your religion—which he will have to follow and obey even though he isn't even a Christian."

"Yes."

Gesturing wildly with one hand, Philippa demanded, "And none of this concerns you? It has been three months. Who even knows what else you will find out about him by six months?"

"Alistair and Meredith only knew each other two months before getting engaged. I think Robert and Lucy-Claire only courted for four."

Philippa made a sound of total disdain. "If that is true then I think they were also acting rashly. You cannot know enough about a man in that short space of time to agree to get married, Charlotte."

Still hugging her legs tightly to her, Charlotte replied with a quiet, somewhat shaken voice, "I feel that I know what I need to make this decision. I trust him."

"Well that's as may be, dearest, but I think that you need to sort out your priorities. Are you two actually compatible for life? Feelings are lovely, but not enough to make a marriage. Did you have any idea that this was the plan for tonight?"

Charlotte shifted position so she was curled up next to the arm of the sofa. "No, because it was not planned at all. Actually, Spencer he was pretty sure that I would put on my running shoes after he told me about the drugs and prison."

"Well he bloody well ought to have expected that. How did he go from thinking he was going to get dumped to daring to ask you to get married?"

"It just happened. I really don't know how. When we were together everything felt wonderful. Now I am too worried and nervous about how my family will react to feel happy."

Philippa reached out her hand and placed it on Charlotte's knee briefly. "Dearest, you know that I don't dislike Spencer. I just worry that you are rushing into things. He is odd, but nice and he clearly adores you. If any man could truly appreciate your uniqueness then I think he is the one."

"He is smarter than I am actually, which is wonderful. I don't ever have to worry about whether he can follow my thoughts. I never feel weird or like he thinks I'm not being womanly when I flex my intellect. Most of the time in the rest of my life I feel like a strange relic dropped into this time, so I'm always out of place. Yet with him I fit and I am happy, Pips."

"I know. I can see that. However, it isn't a perfect fit, Charlotte. You have to consider the bits that are mismatched and make certain that they are not catastrophically problematic."

* * *

"Spencer, is everything ok? You seem completely distracted, which isn't like you."

Spencer looked up from the folder on the conference table in front of him guiltily. "Hm? No, I'm ok. Sorry. What were you saying?"

JJ shifted her weight to one foot as she leant over and said, "Are you sure? Because I've been talking to you for several minutes and I don't think that you heard anything that I said."

"I'm sorry, JJ. I am having some trouble keeping my focus today. I, uh, I got engaged this weekend."

Dumbfounded, JJ repeated, "Spence, you got engaged?"

"Yes. Charlotte agreed to marry me."

"Spence! I had no idea that you were dating that seriously. Is this the girl who spilled your coffee a few months ago?"

Spencer nodded awkwardly. "Technically it was her dog that spilled the coffee, but yes, that is Charlotte. She liked the ribbon by the way, so thank you for helping me identify it."

"So you were buying a Twilly for her. Ok." JJ sat on the arm of the chair next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you going to meet her family?"

He nodded. "Most of her family is in Baton Rouge. Her third brother, Thomas, is a priest somewhere in Richmond, so he is coming up on Saturday. Meeting her brother Charlie didn't go so well, so I can't imagine this will be any better."

"How many brothers does she have?"

"Five. And one sister. She is the youngest."

"That's quite a family! Spence, this is wonderful. I'm really happy for you. I hope you will let us meet her soon."

Tara, who had been leaning back into her chair with an expression of concern, stated quietly, "It sounds as if you haven't known her very long. Are you planning to get married soon?"

Unaware of JJ's urgent gesture to Tara indicating silence at all costs, Spencer replied seriously with an expression of apprehension, "Maybe. I have felt this way about her since the first day though, which is confusing."

Aware that she had apparently made an error, Tara replied kindly, "Love at first sight? It's rare, but it happens. The important thing is that she returns the feelings. I'm pleased for you, Reid."

Spencer wrapped his arms around himself and leant forwards against the table. "Thank you. I mean…I believe that she does. Although she is very hard to understand."

Alvez, who was standing next to JJ with a huge smile, patted Spencer on the back, causing an exaggerated startle response that made it clear Spencer had been unaware that Alvez was present. "All women are, chief. That's universal."

Spencer hesitated, clearly very uncomfortable discussing his private affairs, but driven out of desperation to do so nevertheless. "I never expected to have another chance at this. I hadn't even planned to propose, so I didn't even have a ring."

JJ touched her hand to Spencer's arm gently. "The ring is not the important part."

"But you still need one, chief." Alvez shrugged at Tara and JJ, who were both frowning at him. "What? Am I wrong?"

Simmons, who had come in at the tail end of the conversation, asked with surprise, "Am I misunderstanding what you are talking about?"

Spencer moved uncomfortably in his seat, as both Prentiss and Rossi strode in for the briefing.

Alvez answered Simmons as he sat down beside him. "Nope. Reid here just got engaged."

"Tanti auguri per una vita felice insieme." Rossi smiled across the room with an expression that seemed remarkably unsurprised and asked, "Who's the lucky lady, Reid?"

Nodding, Prentiss smiled broadly at Spencer. "Congratulations, Reid! That is really wonderful news."

Torn between intense embarrassment at his private affairs being made public and a desire to talk about his unexpected good fortune, Spencer stammered, "Her name is Dr Charlotte Theriault. She is a professor of Northwestern Semitic Linguistics and Philology and Classics at Catholic University."

Rossi nodded with approval. "Makes sense—she would need to be an intelligent woman. Can't wait to meet her."

Pushed to the extreme limit of his comfort, Spencer had pushed himself as low in his chair as possible and tightened his arms around himself protectively, but when he saw Garcia in the doorway with her mouth open in thrilled excitement, he said almost plaintively, "I think we should begin discussing the case."

Garcia's excitement deflated as she saw how upset Spencer was. She began to say, "Reid…"

Prentiss gestured to indicate to Spencer that she understood and would take control of the situation. "Garcia, the case?"

"We're not going to…"

"Later, please. Let's get started on the briefing."

* * *

"Charlotte, I cannot approve. You must break off the engagement."

Charlotte gasped. "Charlie, you aren't serious!"

"Completely serious, Sissy. Aside from the most important thing—that he is not a practicing Catholic—he is not a good fit for you personally. He is strange and awkward. He spouts random, weird facts in the middle of a conversation. How is a man like Spencer going to be able to be emotionally available to you in a marriage? Even worse, how can he be a good parent one day?"

Rapping her hand on the sofa cushion beside her, Charlotte exclaimed, "He is not weird. He is wonderful. I love him, Charlie, I really do. Please don't tell Bobby that you can't approve."

His eyes narrowed and arms crossed tightly across his chest, Charlie said seriously, "Bobby trusts me to make a judgement, Charlotte. I don't think this guy is right for you and I will be perfectly honest with Bobby when we talk."

"I love him and I intend to marry him, Charlie."

"Marriage is about more than love. You need compatibility. I'm sorry, Sissy, but I cannot honestly tell Bobby that I approve."

Charlotte tossed the cushion that she had been hugging to the side and stood up angrily. "Then Bobby is going to tell me to break off the engagement."

Obviously surprised at his sister's attitude, Charlie said quietly, " _I_ just told you to break it off."

"You've _always_ been my advocate, Charlie. I asked Thom to come up on Saturday to meet Spencer, too. I'm sure he will support me if you will. Bobby will listen to the both of you."

"I notice you didn't ask Billy."

"Obviously. There is no way that Billy will agree to this, but Alastair says he is fine with it."

"Sissy, you have to be desperate if you called Alastair to get his vote. I don't know what stories you told him to get it either."

Charlotte threw her hands out in a gesture of annoyance. "I just told him that I'd met a wonderful man. We used to be pretty close even though we are three years apart."

"I remember. Maybe when we were children you could twist him round your finger, however, now he is the most uptight of all our siblings including Billy. I know that's why you worked to get his approval _before_ he sees Spencer. Anyway, Bobby never listens to Alastair. He never has. If Alastair weren't our company's general counsel, I think Bobby would still struggle to remember that Alastair is now an excellent attorney and not the 20 year old kid who got in so much trouble."

"Trust me that I know that. You don't know how much Bobby's attitude galls Alastair, too. Yet Bobby listens to you, Charlie, so if Thom and Alistair agree with you then Bobby will listen."

"Not this time, Charlotte. I love you too much to approve something that I think bodes disaster for you."

Horrified, Charlotte pleaded, "Charlie, don't say that. Don't."

Genuinely shocked, Charlie said softly, "I've never seen you this way before, Charlotte."

Struggling to control herself, Charlotte dropped onto the sofa and nearly sobbed, "I am telling you, Charlie that I will _not_ break things off, not even if it means Bobby will cut me off from everything Grandma and Daddy left me. Not even if Billy comes up and gives me one of those talks that always makes me feel like such a horrible person that I cry. No. And I will never forgive you if you make trouble for Spencer with the family. Never."

Now thoroughly alarmed, Charlie exclaimed, "Charlotte, I am trying to do what I think is right!"

Her face displaying her anger and frustration more clearly than her brother had ever seen, Charlotte insisted, "I know that. I do. However, I really can make this decision myself. He is closer to my world than any of you are. He understands me. He holds three PhDs, but he chooses to work for the FBI in a difficult job that helps keep all of us safe."

Charlie shrugged and replied severely, "Look, I will grant you that this guy is a genius and his job is important. However, he is a strange, awkward, and emotionally distant man who is probably 150 lbs soaking wet. How is he supposed to take care of you? How is he supposed to be a good husband or parent when he can barely take care of himself?"

With a bitter laugh, Charlotte wearily replied, "He catches serial killers, Charlie. You don't think he can take care of himself? He may not read my emotions easily or understand social situations, but he cares deeply and is willing to do whatever will make me happy. He is responsible, loving, and kind. He will be a wonderful father."

Charlie frowned and looked thoughtful. "You genuinely believe that?"

"Yes. I do."

It was nearly three minutes before Charlie took a deep breath and sighed. "Ok. Ok, listen. Maybe I rushed to judgement. Why don't we wait? I will meet him again and we will see."

"You won't tell Bobby that you don't approve yet?"

"No. If you really see something in this guy then I will try to take the time to find out if I can see it, too."

"Thank you. You won't dislike him if you get to know him, Charlie."

"Ok, all right, let's see how it goes."


	5. Chapter 5

"Reid! How are you, man?"

Spencer replied stiffly, "Good, I'm good. How are you? How is Hank?"

Morgan laughed. "Hank is great. Smartest kid I've ever seen. But you didn't call to talk to me about your godson, kid. I know you. What's up?"

Taking a deep breath, Spencer pushed himself to explain. "I, uh, yeah…so I have been seeing someone. A girl. She is a professor of Classics and Northwestern Semitic Linguistics and Philology at Catholic University."

Spencer could hear the surprise in Morgan's voice as he said, "That's really great, Reid. Sounds like she is smart enough to keep up with you, right?"

Spencer closed his eyes and leant his back into the bookcase, pressing firmly to ground himself. He had noticed that his sensory-seeking behaviours had increased significantly in the last week. "Definitely." He popped his eyes open in dismay as his mind took him back to where he had begun to seek this degree of pressure stimulation. "Charlotte is extremely intelligent. Frankly, she challenges me in ways that are quite exciting."

"Sounds pretty serious, kid."

He balled up his fists, physically bracing himself for what he was sure would be Morgan's dramatic reaction. Then Spencer replied, "It is. We, uh, I asked her to marry me and she said yes."

"Ha-ha, my man! That's incredible news, pretty boy. It is about time some girl figured out what a great guy you are, Reid."

Quite embarrassed, yet still pleased, Spencer took a moment to calm his senses before he replied, "We haven't known each other a long time, but I feel very sure despite our differences."

"Some differences are a good thing. Sometimes Savannah and I mesh perfectly, but occasionally we complement each other. She fills in things that I lack."

Spencer tucked his legs closer to his chest. Suddenly thinking he heard a small clunking sound, he looked over at the baby monitor beside him. His mother was still where she ought to be, so he relaxed. "These are not complementary differences, Morgan. She comes from a very different background."

"Is she concerned about how you differ?"

Spencer got up from the floor and walked over to his door. As he peered through the peephole, Spencer replied, "Very. Or at least she is worried that I am not a Catholic. Charlotte is extremely religious. I do not actually know if she is apprehensive about my different family background. She is aware of it, but we haven't really discussed it."

"If she is a decent girl then your family problems will not be a problem for her, Reid. As for the religious thing…that could be real. If she is very devout then that affects more than just Sunday. Everything she does would be dictated by church rules and traditions."

Seeing nothing in the hall outside, Spencer went back to the monitor and picked it up. "She is extremely pious, but we have discussed that extensively. I have just accepted that I will have to abide by her faith restrictions."

Morgan's concern was quite evident as he answered, "That is a pretty heavy burden if you don't share her religious conviction, Reid."

Putting the monitor onto the table, Spencer sat down on the sofa. "I know, but I am willing to do it. It isn't actually my family that is the issue, Morgan. It is hers." He began tapping his leg fiercely as he unsuccessfully tried to calm himself. "She is from a very old, powerful Acadian-Cajun family, who use their religion and money to dictate nearly everything she does. I don't really fit into that paradigm."

Morgan let out a low whistle. "Ok, that is different. Definitely didn't see that coming, but I don't think that it changes my answer much. If she is the right woman then she will choose you. If she cannot stand up to her family, then you really need to know that now, kid."

Indulging his hypervigilance, Spencer glanced again at the monitor, then rubbed his palms into both eyes while replying, "I know that you are right, but there is a huge amount of pressure on her from her family to obey whatever the eldest brothers say."

"She is going to have to make that decision herself, Reid. Family pressure is a hard thing to ignore."

Spencer shifted angrily on the sofa, but kept his voice even as he said, "I already had a hostile call from her brother."

"You what? This jerk called you up and threatened you?"

"He didn't have to threaten me and he knows that. His power to make things very difficult for me personally is quite real, since he is a Senator. However, he actually called to make it clear that if I am not approved by the family, then Charlotte loses the family money."

It was a moment before Morgan replied, "Wow. Now that's a stone cold bastard."

"Perhaps, but he is right. I cannot give her that kind of lifestyle, Morgan."

"Kid, clearly she knows that, but she still chose you. You keep doing what you are doing. She seems to like what you've got, Reid."

Unwilling to continue discussing what was one of his deepest concerns regarding Charlotte, Spencer attempted to change the subject by interjecting, "I have not bought a ring yet."

"O-kay…" Spencer could almost hear Morgan thinking through what he should say.

Spencer shoved his hands in his hair with anguish as he realised that he had actually just made things worse. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid discussing. "I have to do that, but I have no idea how to choose something. It has to be just right or she will be disappointed. How do I buy a ring for a girl whose casual watch is a Patek Philippe? All of my money is used for my mother's care, so the only thing I have is retirement accounts. I can cash those out, but I can never afford Van Cleef and Arpels."

"Reid, Reid…calm down, kid. I'm sure this girl does not expect you to buy her a million dollar ring, ok? You already got the girl. You don't need to impress her."

Standing up from the couch, Spencer stalked across the room to the window. "Morgan, I don't even have a chance of impressing her. She is not going to enjoy wearing a ring with a little diamond chip when her favourite emerald earrings have cluster diamonds that are larger."

"Okay, all right, Reid. Calm down, man. I agree that you have a difficult situation. However, with your big brain we are going to figure something out, ok? I get that you don't want to be embarrassed by what you give to the girl you want to marry, but remember that this is all about love. Do you love her, man?"

"Yes. Beyond describing."

Morgan breathed out, as if relieved. "All right then that is what this is about. You're too smart to buy something with a high mark-up from a mall jeweller. You got to find something unique like she is. No one said you had to give her a diamond anyway. You aren't conventional, so why should her engagement ring be?"

Quite panicked, Spencer took solace in facts and explained, "Over 80% of American women have a diamond engagement ring, Morgan. The tradition might only have developed in the last century largely due to heavy marketing by De Beers, but it has become so heavily engrained that it is nearly inviolable."

"Forget statistics, Reid. One of the most famous engagement rings was that sapphire ring Princess Diana wore, right? If you think that you cannot give your girl a diamond worthy of her then look at other stones. I got Savannah's wedding ring through a jewellery resale company, which is a smart way to go if you can be patient."

"I really don't have weeks to get this done. I need to have something ready soon."

* * *

His face brightening with pleasure as he saw Charlotte hurrying towards him, Spencer raised his hand in a little wave. His smile widened as he noticed that she had a thick bundle under her arm. She had promised to bring several of her published papers and her textbook for him to read. His grasp tightened on the strap of his bag, which contained several papers of his that she had requested.

"Hey! I am not late, am I? I really tried to get here on time, I promise." She stood on the tips of her toes so he would not need to bend quite so far as he chastely, but tenderly kissed her.

"No more than 10 minutes. Hardly anything."

"For me that is nearly early, but I know I've promised to work on my timeliness, Spencer. I'm sorry. I really missed you. Two weeks is way too long. Why do you have to go and get all these cases when I most want to see you?" Her playful voice belied the tense expression in her eyes.

He took possession of the bundle that she was extending to him and, as he tucked it carefully under his arm, replied, "I don't think that there could be a good time to go away. I am always longing to see you. What is wrong, Charlotte?"

Sliding her hand into his extended one, Charlotte replied, "Is it ok if we don't talk about that now? I need some good time with you before I want to discuss difficult things."

Spencer's face became noncommittally blank, but not before Charlotte noticed a flash of fear in his eyes. "Of course. We don't have to discuss anything that you do not want to. I am sorry that I could not pick you up this time. My car can be temperamental."

"I know _all about_ temperamental. I used to have a Quattroporte. That stupid thing was in the shop more days than it was out so I kept using Charlie's wife's car, which is the reason Bobby bought me the sedan for the daily commute. I will never buy Italian again. But Spencer we can always take my car, you know. I don't mind you driving it."

Spencer cleared his throat uncomfortably. He could just barely see where Charlotte had parked her dark blue Vantage V12 several spots away. He could never feel comfortable driving a car like that. "If you don't mind, then I would rather not."

Having followed his gaze, Charlotte laughed. "I know. It is a ridiculously obnoxious thing to drive, but I just love it. Will your car be in the shop long? You can borrow the sedan. Pips and I can just do the commute in this one for the week instead."

Feeling a rush of rare annoyance at his fiancée as he heard Charlotte's dismissively refer to a six figure car as 'the sedan', Spencer pressed his lips together as he tried to keep his expression blank. "My car should be finished on Tuesday. I will just take the train in." Spencer could just imagine the looks of his co-workers if they ever saw him attempting to get to work in Charlotte's version of a daily driver.

Giving his hand a little squeeze to show that she knew and understood the source of his discomfort, Charlotte replied, "Ok. I understand. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, Spencer. Where are we going?"

"There is a little park down here a bit. I think that you will really like it."

"But I thought that we were eating lunch first."

Spencer laughed and patted his bag. "We are. I have it all in here."

Charlotte attempted, but failed miserably, to keep her face from showing how unexcited she was about a picnic that was small enough to fit in his bag. "Okay, I trust you."

"Do you? Because you look like I took away your slice of birthday cake."

"Well I'm really hungry. I hope you have a lot of food in there."

Spencer made a face that implied that he wasn't going to tell her anything. Then he slipped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head before saying with a smile, "Don't worry."

Charlotte leant into Spencer, as he pulled her into his side, and tried to ignore the flush spreading across face. "So what about Wednesday?"

"Unless we get a case, then it is no problem. I have done talks like this dozens of times over the years. In fact, I gave a similar lecture last semester at Georgetown."

"Thank you so much, Spencer. Philippa says that Rhys is really excited to have you talk to his class."

"I am always glad to talk about my work, Charlotte. If I had more time, then I would enjoy regularly giving student lectures. I didn't understand that Dr Williams was in a relationship with Philippa."

As she watched Spencer spread out the blanket that he had been carrying under his arm, Charlotte attempted to explain. "Well he is and he isn't. Pips thinks that Rhys is a red-bearded, manly specimen of Welsh perfection. I think that she is _quite_ alone in that opinion though. Rhys is so pitifully attracted to her that it is kind of sweet, except he is just overwhelmed by her personality."

First settling Charlotte on the blanket and then sitting down across from her, Spencer replied, "Philippa is an outspoken extrovert. If he is a shy man, then that might be difficult for him."

"Yes, that is true. I think Rhys is too in love with her to notice anyone else. However, she gets tired of how he gets too caught up in his work to give her enough time, so she occasionally dates other men as well. I think that Rhys might eventually give up and move on."

Spencer frowned. "I hope that you do not feel that I am ignoring you when I have a case. Even when I am away, you are always at the forefront of my thoughts."

Charlotte laid her hand over his and smiled warmly. "I never feel ignored. I know that you will always call when you get to the hotel each night. You never forget to send me a card from whatever city you are in. As soon as you return, you come to see me. Do you feel like I do a good enough job keeping in touch with you?"

Surprised to be asked, Spencer replied, "Always."

"I want you to feel how much I care about you, too, Spencer."

His smile not quite reaching his eyes, Spencer replied gently, "Thank you, Charlotte. Are you ready to see what I brought to eat?"

"Yes!" Charlotte scooted closer to him and tried to see what was in the white wrapped package that he was pulling out. "What is it? Oh! Is that a po'boy?"

Spencer only smiled, slipped a small paper plate underneath the sandwich, and held it out to her.

"This is a crawfish po'boy! Where did you get this, you wonderful magician?" She didn't even wait for him to reply before she held it up and smelled it.

"My secret. You are going to need to try it out and tell me how it is."

Not needing to be told twice, Charlotte took a great big bite and giggled as remoulade sauce dripped down her chin. Waving her hand at him to ask for a napkin, she quickly finished her mouthful and then said, "That is really good. You have to tell me where you got them. Just about every Cajun restaurant I have tried in the DC area is awful. Gloppy gumbo kind of awful."

"All I will say is that my teammate is married to a man from New Orleans, so he helped me out."

"He sure did. You are really hitting it out of the park today, Spencer."

Pulling out an icepack that was wrapped around a can, Spencer opened it up and said, "Vanilla coke?"

"Oh my goodness, you remembered my favourite cold drink. Thank you. Why are they always so hard to find anyhow? I swear that I never can find them."

He only shrugged with a self-satisfied smile playing across his lips. Then he opened up his own sandwich and began to eat, as he watched Charlotte relishing her own food.

"You didn't get yourself a po'boy?"

"No. I don't really enjoy seafood very much."

This caused Charlotte to put down her po'boy and ask with surprise, "You don't like seafood? Whyever didn't you tell me that, silly? I made you Meemaw's seafood stew and you ate the whole bowl. I had no idea."

"You went to a lot of effort to make a family recipe for me. I didn't want to upset you."

"Well it is a good thing that you told me though, since you don't want to be subjected to decades of crab and shrimp if you don't even like them. Is there anything else that you don't really like to eat?"

Spencer's expression was grim, as he replied firmly, "Chilli. I cannot eat it."

"Ok then. No chilli. That it?"

"I eat most things, however, I don't cook anything but breakfast. If I don't get takeout, then I make sandwiches or microwave dinners."

"Can you scramble eggs?"

He laughed. "I can. I can also work a toaster with surprising skill."

"Then all is not lost. I am a terrible wimp in the mornings. I need a huge breakfast, but golly I hate to cook it. If you can do me some eggs and bacon then you will be a king. Oh my golly that po'boy was good. Tell me if you have something else in your bag to eat though? I am so hungry I could eat a whole pie and not even blink."

"I don't have a pie, but I have this." Spencer passed her a plastic container with an enormous piece of cake inside it.

"Caramel cake! I know just where you got this, too. They make the best one anywhere in Northern Virginia." She popped the box open, shoved her fork in, and took a bite quickly.

Spencer rolled up his own sandwich wrapper and carefully began to gather all the trash in front of them, as he watched Charlotte relishing her treat with gusto. His hands alone betrayed his nervousness, as he smiled at her lovingly and asked, "Happy?"

"Totally. One sure way to this girl's heart is good food."

"Then I achieved my goal."

"If your goal was happiness, then yes. I wish that we could spend time like this together more often."

Spencer looked at Charlotte with pained eyes and said, "We can."

She replied wistfully, "I suppose so, but not now and I wish we could now."

"When I asked you to marry me, Charlotte, I meant it. I hope to share my life with you."

Charlotte bit her lip as she looked up at him. She then flushed slightly, as he wrapped his arm around her and pressed his lips into her forehead. "I want that, too."

Spencer saw with satisfaction the contented look that she was giving him, so he surreptitiously slipped his hand into the outer pocket of his bag as he spoke. "You really do mean everything to me, Charlotte. I don't know what I am doing most of the time. I feel like often I am just floundering around pathetically. However, I hope that I am making you as happy as you do me, which is beyond measure. You deserve that, yet I am not sure if I am giving it to you."

With a little sigh, Charlotte nestled her head on his shoulder. "Of course you are, Spencer. I love you."

Spencer moved so that he was holding her left hand between both his, slid the ring over her finger, and whispered, "And I love you."

Surprised, Charlotte looked down at her hand and then back up at him. "One more surprise."

"Success?"

"Resounding." Then for the first time, Charlotte turned and pressed a small kiss on Spencer. She laughed as his response was to tighten his arms and return her salute wholeheartedly.


	6. Chapter 6

_AN: My apologies, but I have now updated with the proper version of Chapter 6. Thank you very much to all of you reading the story._

* * *

"I don't think that it is possible to exaggerate how glad I am to spend time with you this frequently, Charlotte."

Smiling warmly up at Spencer, she replied, "It is wonderful, isn't it? For once I don't have to worry that we will make plans only to have some serial killer get in the way." Catching Spencer looking at her with surprise, Charlotte laughed lightly. "That is a comment that anyone overhearing our conversation would definitely misunderstand."

Spencer smiled slightly. "I think that you are right."

"Well you do have a very strange job. I know you hate the conditions of your reinstatement, Spencer, but it is not natural to race back and forth across the country chasing serial killers. The job is highly stressful and time consuming, but the BAU doesn't have any regular breaks. You have to drop everything at a moment's notice whenever you get a call. I think they ought to enforce a break from fieldwork at least a couple weeks out of the year for everyone." Charlotte reached out her hand, which Spencer grabbed eagerly.

"I like being in the field. I chose this career because I want to help people who cannot help themselves. The BAU is a unique area where all of my knowledge is actually useful and quite literally saves lives." Spencer stopped and waited, while Charlotte let her dog investigate the base of a maple tree. When she looked up at him with an encouraging smile, he continued with a voice that vibrated with emotion, "Teaching a few seminars is a nice vacation, but it is not my job. I don't like being left behind again when my team is out there working."

"I understand that, Spencer. I know how important your job is to you, but it is obvious that you are essential to the BAU as well. I don't think that the FBI would agree to a 100 day on/30 day off arrangement unless they felt you were too valuable to lose. It sounds like the FBI are just trying to find a way to keep you emotionally healthy, so you can continue working there."

Spencer angrily replied, "I don't think that anyone else would need this ridiculous arrangement, Charlotte."

"No, you are probably right, Spencer." Pausing to be sure that he was paying close attention, she then continued, "They would not need it because they would no longer be in the FBI. Any other person who experienced the parade of trauma that you have would probably have given up years ago. You have not given up, not even after months spent in a federal prison."

Spencer twitched his hand away from Charlotte and replied bitterly, "There are greater than 215,000 inmates in the federal prison system and the average length of time that federal inmates serve is 37.5 months. My experience is negligible compared to the average inmate."

Charlotte stopped in the middle of the walkway and stared seriously up at her fiancé, who she had never seen reacting this way. She thought for a moment before replying in a forced, calm tone, "Incarceration is a psychological trauma even for those who have committed the crimes for which they have been sentenced to prison, Spencer. I cannot imagine the effect of prison on a man, who was innocent, to be held without a trial in a maximum security prison without knowing if he would be released."

"The effect was absolute terror. What do you think it was like for a man like me? Every person there from the guards to the inmates sized me up as a weakling within seconds."

Although she heard the pain and anger in his voice and knew that it was not truly directed at her, Charlotte still felt tears burning her eyes. She quickly bent down to pat her dog, so Spencer would not see. "I am sorry."

Spencer huffed angrily to himself as he watched his fiancée, who he knew quite well was hurt because of his reaction. It was several minutes, however, before he regained sufficient control of himself to do anything. "Charlotte." When she did not reply or react, he very softly said, "I am so sorry that I reacted that way, Charlotte." He knelt down and placed his hand on her shoulder and a kiss on the top of her head. "Forgive me?"

With only a slight hitch of her shoulder, Charlotte made it quite clear that she did not want him to touch her. When he pulled away and stood back up, she finally answered, "I am not the bad guy, Spencer."

"I know and I am sorry. Please turn around? Are you crying, Charlotte? Please." Spencer started to lay his hand on her shoulder again, but stopped short before doing so. When she patted Bertie's side twice firmly, as she always did to tell the dog when she was done, Spencer moved a step back so he would not intrude in her space as she got up.

As soon as she stood, Charlotte spun on her heel and faced him. "I do not know how to help you, Spencer. I have read so many studies and articles in the last few months about how prison affects inmates during and after their incarceration. I understand that there are long lasting, painful psychological scars, but I don't really know how to help you."

"I…you have?" It could not have been clearer that Spencer did not know how to react to the idea that Charlotte had put so much time into worrying about him.

Charlotte made an annoyed gesture and replied, "Well of course. I can see how you struggle every day. If you won't talk to me about it then I want to know what I can about what you might be experiencing. I wish you would talk to me instead."

"That is not something that I have ever done. I have never had anyone with whom I felt comfortable discussing painful or private things."

Charlotte gestured angrily with one hand as she peered up at Spencer's face to gauge his feelings. "I don't know how you imagine a marriage should be, Spencer, but we are supposed to be able to share things. If you cannot tell me anything now then how will things be after we do get married?"

Spencer shook his head uncertainly and replied tautly, "I don't know. I know that I want to do everything right with you, but I'm not sure what that will mean."

Her fist perched on one hip, Charlotte glared at him and said, "One thing is for sure: it will mean communication. You keep everything locked up so tight inside that I have no idea how to crack that open. I think perhaps you don't really trust me to love you if you show me who you really are inside."

Spencer caught Charlotte's free hand inside his and raised it to his chest. "Am I really so hidden to you? We talk all the time, Charlotte. I am not afraid to tell you how deeply and desperately I love you. I have promised to live your lifestyle once we are married. You must know that you are the constant hope of my mind."

Charlotte allowed Spencer to wrap one arm tightly around her as he continued cradling her hand to his chest. After a moment she whispered, "Spencer?"

First placing an adoring kiss on her forehead, Spencer then replied thickly, "Yes, dearest Charlotte?"

"I know that you are not happy. How will I know what is causing your pain if you do not share what is in there with me?" She laid her finger on his chest in which she could feel his heart beating wildly.

Spencer responded by placing both his hands along her face and saying, "That is a crowded room, so there are too many things there to discuss now." He smoothed a strand of her hair back and added, "My only concern about us is finding out how I can make you happy."

"I worry about what you need all the time. This is not one-sided, you know."

Spencer closed his eyes and confessed with misery, "Six months never before seemed like such a long time."

"Thom won't marry us sooner. I think he only agreed because I threatened to get married at the courthouse during semester break."

He caught his breath sharply then let it out slowly. "Semester break is a very good time."

"It sounds good, but it isn't very logical and it would get me in trouble with the Church. We haven't made many plans, you know."

Spencer stroked the back of his finger along her cheek. "No we haven't, but that does not matter very much to me at the moment."

"Six months, Spencer. It has to be that way."

He nodded, slid his hand through her hair to the back of her head, and kissed her ardently. Finally he pulled away and in between ragged breaths said seriously, "Then it will be six months."

* * *

"Why do you look like the cat that swallowed the canary? Did Spencer do something especially sweet?"

Charlotte nodded fervently. "Literally. Try one."

Philippa reached into the proffered box and pulled out a chocolate. "What is particularly special…oh. Oh yes, that is heaven."

Charlotte reached for another piece as she said, "It is. Perfect, lethally rich smoothness with a centre of champagne. And we both know, Pips, how I feel about champagne."

"Oh darling that is not just champagne, it is what champagne dreams of becoming if it has been very, very good. Where did your little boffin get these delectable delights?"

"New York. They don't have a Teuscher here in DC. I mentioned them to Spencer on our very first date."

Philippa plunked herself down next to her best friend and commented morosely. "Well we do know that he has a superior memory. Is that where he has been this last week? In New York?"

"Yes. Have another. They are too wondrous not to share."

Helping herself to another truffle, Philippa sunk back into the sofa cushions, but, as she savoured the chocolate, her expression slowly crumpled. Charlotte reached over and squeezed Philippa's hand as she gave her a look of understanding. "Do you want to tell me, honey?"

Philippa breathed out a shuddering sigh and sniffled, but shook her head. Therefore the two friends sat together in silence for several minutes—Charlotte's head resting against her friend's—until finally Philippa said, "So I am done. I have told Rhys that I will not see him again."

"Oh Pips! Honey, I am so sorry."

Valiantly attempting not to lose control, Philippa replied, "It all started so perfectly. It has been so long since he asked me on a proper, romantic date instead of just meeting me at the same restaurant as always. He wore a tie that wasn't actually ghastly and even brought me a flower. It was all going so well until he asked me if I would stop seeing anyone else but him."

"Why? You always said that you wanted Rhys to be serious about you."

Philippa made a sound of disdain. "I do, but it was the way he said it: as if I have been acting like a desperate slapper."

Charlotte gasped. "I am sure Rhys does not believe that, Pips."

"You know that we have never been exclusive."

Charlotte squeezed her friend's hand again and answered, "Yes and Rhys knew that, too."

Philippa sniffed into her sleeve as she tried to wipe her cheek. "He ought to have done, since I was quite clear that I was going to see other men. I have been on dates with five other men, however, I've not been to bed with anyone other than Rhys since I met him. Yes, Charlotte Theriault, that is the truth. I'm not a slag." Philippa shook her head and continued, "I admit that I might have purposely been sparse on details with Rhys when I told him that I was going to see someone else. I did hope that I might spot a spark of jealousy or…something. Yet now he seems to think that I've had affairs with half my department."

Genuinely shocked, Charlotte whispered, "Did he really say that?"

Philippa perched her feet on edge of the leather-topped coffee table in front of them—much to Charlotte's irritation. "Well no, not exactly. Someone told him that I was having it off with Tarleton. As if I would ever. That man has breath like a dragon and looks like a giant sloth. He also was under the impression that I had shagged Bill Choi. I had drinks once with Choi at the hotel during the conference last year, but that was all."

"Oh, Pips, I'm so sorry. I am really surprised. This seems so unlike Rhys."

"Well for all he often seemed emotionless in the past, he was seething with jealousy and self-pity tonight." Philippa put on an exaggerated Welsh accent as she mimicked, "'All this time, you knew how I love you, Pippa. Why am I not enough for you?' How could part-time be enough for anyone?"

Charlotte frowned. "So what are you going to do?"

"Move on. I have hung on pining for two years. It is time."

Charlotte nodded and put her arm around her friend. After a few minutes of silence, she stated gently, "Pips, that is the sixth time your phone has rung."

Philippa cleaned her face again on her sleeve. "I know."

"Well, do you want to talk to him?"

"I don't know. I really said some horrid things to him, Charlotte." Philippa slumped down so that her head was resting on the back of the sofa cushion. "He didn't actually accuse me of sleeping with Tarleton or Choi. He told me what he had heard, but said that he would believe whatever I told him. Yet I could see his jealousy and the fear of what I would say. That's why I lost my temper and purposely said something fairly unforgiveable."

"If it were so unforgiveable, then why has he been calling you for the last half hour?"

"I don't know. I just think that it is probably better if I move on, Charlotte. I do love Rhys, but we are not well matched."

Charlotte started to reply, but stopped short as she heard a loud banging on the front door. Looking inquiringly at her friend, Charlotte got up from the sofa and opened the drawer of her desk from which she snatched up an unusual palm-sized weapon. "You sure?"

"No. I don't know. I am not sure if I want to see him."

Both women heard the loud knocking at the front door again, which caused Charlotte to snort with annoyance. "Ok. Let me go find out for sure who it is."

"Wait! Let me do it."

Charlotte nodded approval and held the device in her hand out to Philippa, who ignored it.

Charlotte heard her friend scurry down the corridor, wrench open the door, and demand furiously, "What is the matter with you? Why are you banging on the door like a madman?"

Just as angrily, Rhys replied, "If you do not answer your phone, then how else am I to tell you that I am outside?"

Philippa's reply was gritted through her teeth, "I didn't answer my phone because _I don't want to see you_."

The door was slammed loudly, then Rhys answered from inside the entry hall, "I cannot accept that, Pippa."

"No? Well what are you going to do, Rhys?"

In a voice that sounded past bearing, Rhys replied, "I have no idea. I don't know what to do with you! All I know is that I love you and that I can't bear living in h*ll any longer. I cannot."

Philippa's bitter laugh echoed strangely down to where Charlotte was sitting and shamelessly eavesdropping. "It is a h*ll of your own making then, Rhys. I have been available. I was here. You just put your career first and gave me tiny corner of your life. That was never enough."

Rhys snarled, "No, that is not right, is it Pippa? It didn't quite go like that. You filled your time with other men. Thursday or Wednesday morning I would get a flirty text from you. When I answered then you would tell me that you had a date that weekend and would not be available. You _wanted_ to hurt me."

Philippa insisted, "No, I wanted you to sort out your feelings and do something! Call me on Monday or Tuesday to organise a date. Make it clear that you wanted every weekend or even every night."

"Of course I want every night. How else do you understand it when a chap tells you that he loves you?

"Actions, Rhys. Words are not enough. When we first started dating you were so caught up in your research that you cancelled quite a few dates. Therefore, I found someone else to take me to dinner. When you got shirty, I told you that if you wanted to date me then you needed to make time for me. You didn't, which told me that you don't really care enough to make me a priority. I've hung about waiting for long enough."

His tone clearly both mortified and angry, Rhys replied, "I didn't want to make you unhappy. If you weren't satisfied with what I had on offer then I wanted you to find what you needed. Obviously, I provide an inferior product."

Charlotte recognised the desperation in Philippa's voice as her friend demanded, "You really thought that I was having it off with them? You massive, complete plonker! I told you that I was only going to dinner or dancing. I just didn't want to be alone on a Saturday evening, Rhys. What kind of horrible slag do you think I am?"

"I don't think that. I love you, Pippa. I _thought_ that I could manage to get by with whatever you offered, but I just cannot. I want to wake up every morning to you. I want to know that you will be there twenty years from now. What do I need to promise you to make you happy?"

There was a long pause and then the distinct sound of a kiss before Philippa said seriously, "That."

There was quite a long pause in which Charlotte wondered if she ought to slink upstairs unnoticed to give them more privacy. She had definitely made up her mind to go, quickly gathering her book and box of chocolates into a stack onto the table before her, when she heard Rhys breathing heavily as he begged, "You…G-d in heaven. Don't do that…Pippa, please…would you be willing to go home?"

"What do you mean?"

Rhys growled and demanded, "If you continue doing that then I cannot concentrate, please…I am asking you to be with me. Always, I mean. That is…stop, Pippa! Your friend is here, isn't she?"

Philippa answered, "Of course she is. Fine. If you can't take it then I shan't kiss you anymore."

"B*gger that! Look here, my girl. I am taking you with me now and you are not going to see anyone else. Is that sorted? Also, I want us to both go home."

"I am not moving in with you, Rhys. I live here. She needs me."

"Not nearly as much as I need you. Not half."

There was a poignant pause before Philippa replied, "You are really serious, aren't you?"

"Utterly. I will never be happy if I lose you. I will stay here in America if you want, but you know how I want to go home. However, I have told Aberystwyth that I shan't be going."

"Rhys! You never even told me that you had an offer! Why would you do that? You have been desperate to get back to Wales or at the very least to Britain."

"Because they didn't have a position to offer you, Pippa. I can't go back home if you are here. You are a star in your subject, my love, and I could never ask you to go back without a proper job on offer. You had a hope of going to Cardiff once, didn't you? Perhaps that will come together eventually."

Five minutes later, the door had closed behind Rhys and Philippa, so Charlotte relaxed back onto the sofa. She patted the cushion to invite her sleepy spaniel to jump up and then reached for her phone. It wouldn't be fair to call Spencer, since he often suffered from severe insomnia. However, she could compose a text that he would be able to read in the morning.


	7. Chapter 7

Spencer knew better than most men how deep the bond between a man and his mother could be. Just as true, he had felt immense anger at his own father for abandoning both of them. This most recent unsub's rage was quite comprehensible to him, but that was where the similarity ended. Spencer banged his closed fist rapidly into his temple as he reminded himself again that empathising with an unsub's difficult childhood was not a bad thing. He forced himself to stop stimming only when the discomfort became true pain. He could feel the panic rising and a full meltdown approaching. He had not been brought to this point since he was at Caltech. As always, the impending loss of control was terrifying.

Spencer began to frenetically pace the floor of his sitting room—the twin emotions of self-disgust and longing twirling a vicious dance through his mind. His desire for her was unbearable. Never in his entire life had he felt this way or wanted anything nearly as much. He loved her in a miserable, desperate, and pathetic way that was certainly unhealthy and could hardly be attractive. He would do anything for her—even things he would not naturally ever consider doing, which horrified him. Of course, Charlotte would not even consider that she had the quite real power to constrain him to do whatever she wanted, nor would she want to do so.

Suddenly so overcome that he could barely think, Spencer snatched up his keys, phone, and jacket and nearly ran out of his apartment and down the stairs. What had worked years before might work again. He needed to exhaust himself physically or he would lose himself in the type of self-harming that had characterised the extreme meltdowns of his teens and early twenties.

He began walking as fast as he could manage with his hands gripped behind his neck and a low, constant rumbling sound emanating from his chest. He had truly forgotten how comforting that sensation could be. It was hard not to pull on his hair, but he kept his hands firmly pressing on the back of his neck and continued marching down the rest of his street and then around the corner. It was not until he had nearly worn himself out that he began to slow down and allow himself to think about what had him so panicked.

Despite having read hundreds of books, plays, and poems on the subject, he really had never before understood the darker, obsessive side of love. Yet now, Spencer was mortified that the more uncertain he was of her or of himself, the more this ugly new side of himself wanted to demand total possession. Thankfully this horrible instinct would be simple to shut down whenever it reared its head again, since he despised the impulse entirely. It was additionally frightening to realise that certain past unsubs were suddenly more comprehensible to him.

He stopped at the coffee shop, which was just about to close. Spencer did not have the energy left to work a coffee maker, but he wanted a large cup of coffee however unwise it might be to ingest a stimulant. As he ambled back up his street, his exhausted body buzzed with almost uniform sensory overload. Abruptly, with a terrified gasp, he realised with dread that he had left his mother alone in the apartment asleep. He knew she was deeply medicated and was unlikely to wake for quite some time; however, he could not imagine how he could have forgotten. Anything could happen. If she awoke alone she would be terrified and then might harm herself. The muscles in his legs burned as he raced up the stairs. His hands shook so he could barely work the lock on the front door. The moment he stepped into the apartment and saw the door to his bedroom was closed and everything was quiet, he slid down the wall beside his door onto the floor. His coffee cup gripped between both hands, Spencer leant his head back against the wall and sobbed.

* * *

"I cannot believe how long it has been since I made it over to the barn, Pips. Poor Bucie looked pitifully happy to see me and you know how moody he can be. Bethany says that he has been off lately."

"I've visited him each time I was out there this last week and he seemed as cheeky as ever. Quite frankly, Bethany is neurotic about Bucephalas. She might actually love him more than you do."

Charlotte shrugged. "She dotes on him, but of course my Bucie is the best horse in the world so that is perfectly natural."

Philippa laughed. "You are a horrid snob about that horse. It is lucky that I understand you, you know? My darling Reddie may not be a vaunted Hannoverian of perfect lineage, but he is my delight and I might actually love him more than Rhys. I'm so going to miss doing this with you."

"I'm sorry. I promise that I didn't mean anything unkind about Reddie, really. He is a love. But why won't we be able to train together anymore? What is wrong?"

Philippa laid her hand on her friend's shoulder and said, "Of course we can still ride together, although I don't think what I do can be called training as I have not competed in years. However, we won't be able to spend the entire day together and then come back to the house and talk horses all through dinner. You know?"

"Oh! Oh." Suddenly, Charlotte's face crumpled as she said, "I had not thought about that at all."

"Well dearest, you and Spencer will be here together in five months. My moving day is in less than a fortnight. Things are going to change."

Charlotte sniffed and said in a wobbly voice, "I know and I can hardly wait to be married to Spencer. I just don't want our friendship to change and it will."

Philippa smiled at her friend with understanding and patted her hand. "True, but soon you will have your husband and I'll have Rhys."

"I suppose. So how is Rhys?"

Laughing out loud, Philippa rolled her eyes and replied, "Odd as ever. I have often thought that he must put actual work into clashing so many pieces of clothing at once, but I think he just picks at random. Though lately he seems to be selecting his least horrid jumpers and the ties that don't have spots on them. Actually, my darling Rhys has been trying so hard at everything that he asked me this morning if I would really prefer if he shaved his beard. His pride and joy that he spent years growing and shaping!"

"I think that he is just so worried that you might change your mind, Pips. He wants to do anything to make you happy."

With a quite satisfied grin and a faraway look, Philippa sighed. "Hmm, I know. It is good for him to be on edge and uncertain. He needn't know that a massive great loadall couldn't move me."

Charlotte asked uncertainly, "Are you happy, Pips?"

"Deliriously so. All I have wanted was Rhys, you know that."

Charlotte nodded, but did not say anything as she watched her friend with concern.

"I know that you don't understand my attraction to him, but he is everything that I want."

"I do understand why he is so exciting to you, actually. I don't think that I could explain it, but it makes sense to me. Anyway, all I want to know is that you are happy." Charlotte budged closer to her friend and bumped shoulders with her conspiratorially, "We have always been opposites, but a perfect pair."

Philippa leant her head against Charlotte's and replied, "Always. You are happy with Spencer, aren't you dearest?"

"I am, but he is not. Spencer is struggling. He thinks that I don't know."

Sitting upright in consternation, Philippa demanded, "Struggling with what? You don't mean the drugs?"

Charlotte gasped with exasperation. "No, of course not! His time in the prison was traumatising. He has PTSD and is not getting any therapy. His mother has Alzheimer's and he insists on keeping her with only a day nurse in his apartment, which means so much stress for him. Lastly, he has never had a romantic relationship like this. He loved Maeve, but they never got to be together outside of letters and phone calls. Being with a girl in person is very different and has him completely off kilter. Theory is not the same as reality."

"Well I hope so! If a real breathing girl isn't better than a fantasy, then he isn't much of a man."

"No, Pips. That is not what I mean. I just meant that, as someone with Asperger's, this part of our relationship is a struggle for him. I don't always act like he expects, and he often isn't fully aware of his emotional state until he is overwhelmed."

Philippa made a sound that clearly indicated scepticism. "Are you quite sure he is on the spectrum? He is a little odd, but I don't really see it. How can someone who is autistic be a behavioural profiler?"

"Yes, I am certain, since he has _told_ me that he is. He was diagnosed quite young. Spencer is extremely secretive about it, since he feels it would make people doubt his capability. He also thinks that his team does not know, but of course they must."

"If you say so. He seems unusual, but only in the way that socially awkward geniuses would be."

Charlotte stood up from the sofa and stalked over to the drinks cupboard. As she unstoppered a bottle of Benedictine, she said in a steely tone, "Your private observation is unlikely to change Spencer's reality, Philippa. Spencer's strength is geographic profiling, as well as analysing facts and reported behaviours of a criminal extremely quickly—at which he is quite excellent. A man can be autistic and also quite highly competent and functional."

Shocked, Philippa whistled and said, "Ok. Sorry. No need to have a strop on. I know he is a genius and well respected."

Charlotte poured out a large scotch for Philippa and stated firmly, "You are being just like my brothers. Even Alistair, who I thought would be the first to understand, cannot believe that Spencer might make a credible FBI agent. Spencer is a truly remarkable man, Philippa. Why don't you ask Rhys his opinion? His area might be research into abnormal psychology, but he would certainly have recognised certain behaviours in Spencer."

Contritely, Philippa accepted her glass with a quick thank you, "Cheers." Then she took a swallow before saying cautiously, "I understand about Alistair and his struggles. However, he is very rigid and uptight. He has much more stereotypically strong interests like his 'War Room' where he rehashes all the battles of your War of Independence and such. I don't see any of that in Spencer or even the rocking back and forth stuff."

Charlotte still looked uncharacteristically fierce, but she replied less harshly than before, "Stimming, you mean. Well Alistair's sensory seeking behaviours are very noticeable, since he really doesn't care who sees him doing them. Spencer has worked to develop more socially acceptable stimming. He really wants to keep his challenges private."

"Does he know that you have talked to me about this?" Philippa's concern was very evident in her frown.

Charlotte nodded seriously. "Of course. I won't betray his secrets, Pips, not even to you."

* * *

Spencer got up from his sofa where he had been slowly paging through an old notebook from his second year at Caltech to place it back in its box. He had not kept many things from his past, but he had found a few notebooks and papers after searching through the bins he kept in his storage. Charlotte had asked about his time before the FBI, which had made him start looking for anything that he might be able to share with her. He had never worried about pictures much, so all he had found were his earliest published works and a couple of drawings that he had made one summer. Nothing that would interest anyone but him. In fact, he wasn't even sure why he had kept them.

As he pulled a box of leftover Indian food from the refrigerator, Spencer thought how surreal his life had become. It seemed so impossible and utterly wonderful that she could truly love him. He was a weird, gawky, and very nerdy man. He was strange and quite socially inept. Worst of all he was a former drug addict—an issue that he struggled with far more than he had explained to her.

Shoving the plate with his dinner into the microwave, Spencer leant against the counter and tried to pull himself together. He knew that he was having an anxiety attack—his third of the week—but he couldn't seem to reign in his mind. Instead, it insisted on reminding him that he didn't have money or power, unlike her family, which had immense amounts of both. It also would not let him forget that his job was more likely to depress than impress. Lastly, his mind demanded that he consider what she could see in him. Outside of his co-workers he did not know anyone that found him worthy of friendship. Essentially all he had to offer was his intellect and total, abject devotion.

Spencer shook his hands to encourage circulation, since he had been gripping them together tightly whilst he tried to force himself to gain some control. He pushed himself to take careful, regular breaths, but the tunnel vision and crushing sensation in his chest were making it impossible to ground himself. Spencer stumbled over to the sofa, looking at his bedroom door on the way and wondering how much longer he had until his mother woke and needed something, and dropped onto the cushions. The smell of curry was making him nauseous. Then, as he bent over to place his head between his knees, Spencer noticed his phone on the floor. He could not resist the temptation to check the front screen to see if he had any missed calls or texts, although he knew there would not be any. They had already talked that afternoon and she never called him twice in one day.

What he saw made him lurch forwards with anticipation as he slid his finger over the screen and clicked the message folder.

" _Hey, I couldn't sleep so I decided to send you a text. I hope you are resting though since you haven't gotten much sleep because of your case. I wish it were tomorrow night already so we were together again. I'm glad you are back in DC. Talking on the phone is nice but not the same. :-)_ _"_

Spencer sank onto the closest chair, rubbed his eyes and shook his head to try to focus his mind, and then read the message perhaps 10 more times before he finally realised that he should reply. He awkwardly tapped out an answer.

" _I miss you, too. I have been thinking of you since the moment that we hung up earlier. Is there a reason you can't sleep? Is everything ok? If you need to talk it does not matter how late it is. I won't mind. SR"_

Before he could turn off the screen, there was already a reply. _"Is now ok?"_

" _Of course. SR"_

The phone rang and Spencer eagerly answered, "Charlotte?"

"Hey! Why are you still awake? Is it work or something else? It isn't us, is it?"

Unwilling to lie, but not wanting to upset her, Spencer mildly said, "I have been thinking about our conversation tonight."

Her soft voice full of concern, Charlotte replied, "I am sorry, Spencer. I didn't know that we had talked about anything that had upset you. Mostly we discussed my love of anything regarding the Matter of Britain. Right?"

Clearing his throat to give himself a moment to consider his reply, Spencer finally explained, "Yes, broadly, but also quite specifically Erec and Enide. I was thinking about how you said you wanted to follow me on my adventure."

Answering a bit sharply, Charlotte asked, "You doubt that I meant that?"

"No. I have wondered why you visualise _my_ adventure. Why is it not ours instead? You are a woman of superior intellect, so your career is of equal importance to mine."

Clearly surprised, Charlotte explained softly, "That wasn't really what I meant, but thank you. I don't know if I will always want to teach at a university or if I might want to spend my time researching exclusively. However, even if I were busy diapering toddlers or home-schooling children, I would never stop being interested in my subject."

Spencer replied with seriousness, "I would hope not. You have too great an intelligence to waste, Charlotte."

She stammered in reply, "Thank you. You know…well, before I met you I assumed that marriage would mean retirement from my career. Although I always hoped to be married and a mother, I also never expected that I would find someone compatible with this side of me."

"Any man who would expect a woman like you to dumb yourself down for him is an imbecile. Of course most men _are_ comparative imbeciles next to you. Quite frankly, Charlotte, your intellect thrills me. However you wish to proceed with your career is up to you. I would be happiest knowing that you are doing what you want."

Replying thoughtfully, as if she had never really considered the possibility of what she was saying, Charlotte said, "I believe that I will want to spend more time at home if I have children, however, if I have the option of also working some, then I think that I probably would want to do that."

"Why would you not have that option? Do you mean because of me? I promise you that I would never make that decision for you."

Spencer heard Charlotte's pleased sigh before she replied, "Okay. We probably need to talk more concretely about how we both see the future. Children and that stuff. Right?"

"Yes. I think it would be best if we find a professional. Your brother Thom suggested that we meet with your priest here in DC for premarital counselling. We can either do that or arrange to meet with a therapist who specialises in relationship counselling."

"You know, I had not considered that. Do you think that we need it?"

Spencer cleared his throat and replied seriously, "I think that we should have a third party, who can help guide us through all the questions that we need to address before getting married. A professional will not be emotionally invested, whereas I know that I definitely am. I cannot be objective about us. In fact…"

Spencer bolted up from the sofa as he heard his mother shout in panic, "SPENCER!"

"Oh my goodness, was that your mama? Is she ok?"

"Yes, sorry." Spencer covered the phone and called out, "Coming, Mom. I'm coming."

Charlotte said soothingly, "It's ok. You go. I will talk to you tomorrow, ok?"

"Ok. Thank you. I love you." Spencer dropped the phone and hurried into his bedroom where his mother was desperately trying to open a window.


	8. Chapter 8

As they walked out to his car, Charlotte said softly as she squeezed his hand, "I am so tired. This was a really long day."

Spencer pressed Charlotte's hand awkwardly and asked with raw emotion, "It was. Does your brother actually hate me, Charlotte? He genuinely seemed to."

Disconcerted, Charlotte's head snapped up so she could read his expression. After a moment, she explained uneasily, "He doesn't _hate_ you. Charlie came around, so I really think Bobby will, too. They know how I feel, however, they just don't understand yet what I see in you. You are so different from them and more like me, you know? I'm sorry that Bobby was ugly to you."

Spencer waited with his hand on her door as Charlotte fastened her seatbelt. "You don't have to apologise for their opinions. I am used to condemnation from men like your brothers. I've dealt with it my whole life."

After he gently shut her door, Charlotte waited for him to come around to the driver's side. When he had settled into his seat and shoved his key into the ignition, she asked, "Are you saying that my brothers are like all those bullies who've hurt you?"

"No, but I am saying that I don't easily win people's approval outside of my colleagues. I am more than surprised that you even agreed to our first date let alone the second. It does not shock me that your brothers do not like me."

"But I liked you from the moment that I met you!"

Spencer laughed slightly in disbelief. "I cannot understand why a man like me would interest a beauty like you. It is like the homecoming queen falling for the tiniest, most scrawny nerd in school. That just doesn't happen."

Both surprised and frustrated, Charlotte asked, "You don't think that you are fun, interesting, clever, kind, sweet, trustworthy, gentle, understanding, and…"

Spencer interrupted her with a passionate kiss before finally pulling back and saying, "No, I don't. But I am glad you do."

Still reacting slightly to the kiss, Charlotte whispered, "Then why do you think that I want to be with you?"

"I have no idea. I ask myself that every day. I think that I am afraid that any moment I will turn around and you will have grown tired of me."

Charlotte shook her head as she stared down at the fiery ruby in the centre of her engagement ring. "I don't like that you have such a low opinion of yourself or that you don't trust me more."

Spencer started the car and then drove through the porte-cochère of Charlie's house, so he could head back down the driveway to the street. "Anyone who has been socially rejected as many times as I have is naturally uncertain of their own appeal, Charlotte. I don't have friends outside of work."

"I know you have had a difficult time, but your work is so all-encompassing that I don't see how you could have many friends outside of work anyway. You can barely find time for me."

Spencer insisted unhappily, "Every moment that I am not at work I want to spend with you."

"Eventually we can do that. When we are married, I mean."

As they rolled to a stop at the intersection to leave the neighbourhood, Spencer looked at Charlotte and said, "Yes, I understand, but I have more time when I could see you. I could take you to dinner during the week or see you on Sundays."

Charlotte shook her head. "I think that it is better if I keep Sunday separate for now."

"Why? You attend church in the morning. Do you not have time for me later in the day?"

She heard the pain in his voice, but she did not feel ready to explain. "Not…no, not right now."

"Is there something that I should know about? Is there a problem?"

Charlotte sighed deeply. "I don't like to talk about this, Spencer, since you know it is my biggest worry for us. I worry for the state of your soul, which you know. I spend Sunday afternoon at the church doing the full 15 decades of the rosary and a novena to St Monica for you."

Spencer frowned. He waited for the light to turn so he could drive before he replied, "You spend all that time praying for me every Sunday?"

Charlotte pushed herself back into the old worn seat of Spencer's car, as she considered what she wanted to say. Finally she explained, "I am frightened for you. Because of the nature of your work, I am scared that you would lose your soul. If you have no faith, then evil is impossibly hard to combat and you are surrounded by such horrible wickedness all the time at the BAU."

"Why did you not mention this before now?"

"I hoped that eventually you would be open to seeking answers on your own. I know that you are not interested now."

Spencer groaned. "Well my uncle was previously my best example of what a faithful Catholic looks like and that was not a good thing. I cannot logically accept the tenets of your church, Charlotte."

"I'm sorry. You haven't had other examples of genuine faith since then?"

He shook his head. "Yes and no. My job, as you say, shows me the worst of people. I have Catholic colleagues, but I do not think that they are very devout."

"Perhaps if you spend some time reading books by true, faithful Catholics you might gain an understanding about what living a Catholic life really means. You should have a broader understanding than just my interpretation, especially since you will have to live this lifestyle, too."

Spencer shrugged and stated with an edge, "I have read 49 books in the last few months about Catholicism, Christianity, doctrine and dogma, scriptural interpretation, Catholic Catechism, and Catholic philosophy."

As they turned into the driveway for her house, Charlotte asked, "Oh. And?"

Spencer stopped his car, his brakes squeaking loudly, and fumbled with the key to turn it off. "Charlotte, I understand what is being said. I comprehend the philosophy, the world view, and the historical evidence. However, I have not had the same experiences that these men have had. I simply have not had any private revelation, nor can I imagine that I will."

"Have you rejected faith?"

"No. Nor have I accepted it."

Charlotte fiddled with her ring and avoided his eyes as she responded in a small voice, "Ok. Philippa has been quite severe with me about being so hopeful, but I suppose she is right as usual. I'm sorry." Looking up at him with wide, worried eyes, she continued, "You have to choose your own way, Spencer. I do not want you to turn to the Church because you are afraid of losing me. That is definitely the wrong reason."

Spencer clasped her hand tightly and said flatly, "Yet I think that I will lose you, however, if I do not begin attending mass."

"No, I will go to mass on my own. I do not want you doing something that you don't believe in. That would be worse."

Stammering as he tried to get the nerve to tell her, Spencer said, "Wh-when you were upstairs with your sister-in-law and the baby, Bobby told me…he insisted that we will not be getting married if I have not 'come back' to the church. He made that very clear, Charlotte."

"I did not know that. I'm so sorry, Spencer. Ugh, he can be so difficult!"

"He is trying to protect you."

Charlotte clenched her fists and angrily demanded, "By trying to drive you away?"

Spencer turned an intense gaze on her as he explained, "No, by trying to keep you from making what he believes would be a serious mistake. I cannot blame him for trying to protect you, Charlotte. I want the same thing. If I thought that I was hurting you, then I could not handle that."

"Spencer, please don't talk like that."

He leant closer to her and said with stark seriousness, "I have seen divorce up close and it is terrible. It destroys people. I grew up with that brokenness."

Charlotte pulled back from him and blinked nervously as she said, "Well…I don't know what happened with your parents, Spencer. You have never talked about it. However, we are not your parents."

Spencer watched her face for a moment before he answered, "No, but there is no guarantee that I do not have the same tendency to mental illness that my mother does. You know that I have Asperger's and OCD, which is bad enough, however schizophrenia is another h*ll entirely."

Charlotte nodded. "I know, Spencer. I can't imagine what it is like for your mother. I cannot begin to fathom what it must have meant for you as a child."

"You might be signing up for that with me."

Her annoyance overcoming her compassion, Charlotte demanded, "Well, you know the statistics. What do they say?"

He flatly stated, "Because my mother has it, I have a six times greater chance of developing the disease. Yet the average age for a man to display initial symptoms is 18 with peak vulnerability at 25. By the age of 25, greater than 75% of all cases will have been diagnosed. With the exception of a drug-induced or a comorbid bipolar schizoaffective episode, it is exceedingly rare for schizophrenics to display the first symptoms after 30."

"Have you had symptoms?"

"No."

"Despite being hypervigilant for any sign, you haven't seen anything?"

"No, I haven't."

Charlotte gestured angrily, "Then I think you have enough to worry about than to focus on a disease that you are very unlikely to develop."

Spencer accepted her dismissal of the subject and turned to another at random. "I've never lived with anyone other than family. I am concerned that I might not know how to adjust well."

"I think that we will just work that out as we go along. That has to be worked out in _every_ marriage. It might be a difficult thing for us or not, but something we just figure out."

Spencer breathed out shakily and murmured, "I think there are going to be a lot of things like that. I might prove very difficult to be married to because of all my issues, Charlotte."

"Fine!"

"What…what do you mean?"

Charlotte fixed her furious gaze on Spencer, who instinctively leant back. "I mean that if you don't want to marry me then we won't get married! For five days now, _every time we have talked_ , you have given me reason after reason why we should not marry. Yet you don't seem to have any to offer for why we should. So, I say, fine. We won't marry. Clearly you don't really believe that we should. Here." Charlotte slipped the glittering ring off her finger and placed it on the ledge of the dashboard. "Happy?"

Spencer opened his mouth and shut it several times without speaking before he croaked out, "No."

Charlotte shrugged as if to say that she did not care. "I think that I have been the only one fighting for this so why should I bother? You don't think we should get married and my brothers are horrified that I am engaged to a non-Catholic. Maybe if you had put the same energy into finding reasons we _should_ be together or fighting to make things work out right, then this would make sense. Yet it has just been me fighting and pleading to Thom, Alastair, Bobby, Charlie, and even Therese. So I give in." Charlotte opened the door, snatched her purse from the floorboards, and ran out of the car towards the house.


	9. Chapter 9

Charlotte ran her hand along the banister of the back entrance hall as she looked down below. She remembered watching Lazare propose to Therese there one Sunday after mass as they stood on the mosaic floor by the row of fern stands. It was one of the only times that Charlotte remembered her sister looking genuinely happy. She slowly made her way down the stairs and drifted out the French doors into the sun-filled garden.

She missed home so much that she sometimes wondered if coming back for a visit caused her more pain than it was worth. All the memories in this house…Alastair chasing her through the hedge maze as they played Continental soldier, dear old Boudreaux chasing dozens of balls on the lower lawn before he went splashing into the pond, and of course her old pony. Charlotte's only clear memory of Daddy was him holding her on as she circled the paddock on sweet, plodding Guillaume on the Christmas morning she got him.

Charlotte wandered further into the garden and looked for the arch where her swing used to be. Bobby had taken it down nearly 10 years ago, but she always visited anyway. Mama had always been willing to push her when everyone else got tired. Afterwards they would sit in the garden with Charlotte always perched on Mama's lap as poor Mama's arthritis-ridden hands spelt sweet messages out on Charlotte's back. Sometimes, Alistair would join them and sit at Mama's feet as she told them stories of Daddy or Pawpaw or Mama's brother that had never returned from Vietnam—the one for whom Alistair had been named. Charlotte adored this garden. She loved home.

Finally, she reached the stone bench. This was the same bench where Daddy proposed to Mama. Pawpaw had told Mama he would as like she married a dog as Daddy, but Mama had made up her mind and did what she wanted like always. Daddy and Mama were married and buried in the same church where Charlotte had hoped she would marry Spencer. Spencer, who she still ached to see. She just wanted to look up into his soft, kind eyes and tell him that she loved him. She wanted to feel his long, slender fingers wrapped round her hand as he talked about…anything. She could listen to him read a recipe for carrot cake if it meant that he was there with her. Charlotte knew that she would never be able to find another man like Spencer. He was the one she wanted. Her decision to break off the engagement was warping her mind to such a degree that she could not hope to remain professional at work. When she returned to Washington she would have to ask for a leave of absence. It was only fair to the college, since she could hardly teach or research when her brain could not focus on anything but how much she wanted to be with Spencer.

She sat there for well over an hour looking out over the grounds of their home. If it weren't for Bucie, then she would be tempted to stay at home with Bobby, Lucy-Claire, and all the children for a few weeks. However, there was a dressage show that she needed to compete in if she wanted to stay in her current division for Finals in November. Charlotte had to admit to herself that even Finals did not really matter very much. She owed it to Bucie, since he was such a wonderful boy, but she did not really care for herself. It seemed pointless to wipe her face, since she was just going to continue crying anyway. However, she remembered Grand-auntie Antoinette's admonition about a lady crying publicly and absently tried to wipe her cheeks when her phone began to buzz.

It would be him. It had to be him. Surely. Charlotte looked down at the screen and began to truly sob when she saw it was only Alistair. Spencer had not called in nearly 24 hours. Perhaps he had given up. She had ignored over a dozen calls and so many texts, but now that she was ready to talk to him, he had stopped trying. His texts had all sounded distraught, hopeless, confused, and desperate—all the things she felt herself. How had she come to break up with him? Why had he not fought for her then, but just sat foolishly in the car as she ran away? Well…well what? Charlotte gripped her phone and blankly looked down at the screen. Alistair was calling again. She had to answer.

* * *

"You are trying to poison me! I know that you and your goons want me to fall for it, so I will not, will not, I will not submit to your torture and questions! You want my secrets, but I won't fall for your lies. I won't tell you _anything!_ I won't give you the satisfaction of breaking me. You won't get to me! You won't!"

Spencer stood just outside his bedroom door as he listened to his mother screaming at the nurses, who had been trying to convince her to take a nap. The newest drug that his mother's psychiatrist had added was having a serious effect on her stability. It was difficult to say how her memory was deteriorating, since her increased paranoia and psychosis overwhelmed everything else. It had been days since she recognised him, although she had not yet forgotten that she had a son named Spencer. She merely refused to believe that her son was older than 11.

Finally, Regina came out of the room as her colleague settled a much calmer Diana into the bed, and said quietly, "We had to give her the Haldol, but it is having its usual effect. I really don't know how much longer we can continue treating your mother here in your home, Spencer. She is deteriorating too quickly for us to manage well here and the cost is going to increase drastically. She will need more physical care soon."

Mute with misery, Spencer nodded.

"I think that we can give you a few more weeks, but you will need a new arrangement soon. Belinda and I are not psychiatric nurses."

"I understand. I will look for someone else to manage the home care."

"Spencer, I don't think that you are really understanding the severity of the situation. Your mother needs round the clock care by a staff of individuals. One nurse is not enough. The cost of this care would be crippling. There are truly excellent facilities that can handle an Alzheimer's patient with more dignity and, quite frankly, better care than we can provide her here."

"I do understand, Regina. I really do. I am responsible for having my mother committed for the schizophrenia when I was 18. I have been through these decisions repeatedly over the last two decades. However, I made her a promise after she was kidnapped earlier this year that I would not leave her again. I have to honour that promise."

Regina sighed. "In all honesty, Spencer, she does not remember that. She is deteriorating surprisingly fast. She will not remember asking you not to leave her and it is unreasonable for anyone to expect you to keep that promise under these circumstances. You have gone about as far as you can go. Far more than any other family member of my patients has ever gone."

"Thank you, Regina. You have been really good to my Mom. I cannot tell you how much that means to me." Spencer felt the buzz of his phone in his pocket and pulled it out absently without looking at it. "I will see about getting someone else to take over from you. I understand." Looking down at the screen of his phone, Spencer suddenly stammered, "I-I'm so sorry. I have to take this. Excuse me."

Spencer turned away and hurried to the apartment door and stepped outside into the hall as he answered, "Charlotte? Are you there?"

"Yes. I saw that you called earlier, but I was out riding and couldn't answer."

He heard the unusually flat tone of Charlotte's voice and bit his lips anxiously. "I'm sorry. I know that you don't want to talk to me and I have tried to give you space these last two days, but I am hoping that you would give me just a few minutes."

"What is it that you want to talk about, Spencer?" Charlotte seemed more resigned than annoyed, but he was not sure that was better.

"Will you let me see you? Please." Spencer tried to imbue his voice with enough urgency to demonstrate his resolve to her. "I know that you are right and all I was doing was panicking about the potential problems that could derail our relationship. I ought to have talked to you about all the many ways that I believe we are wonderful together. Most especially, I should have made sure that you could never doubt that I want to be with you, that I want to marry you, and that I love you so much."

He could hardly hear her reply as she asked, "Why didn't you say something then?"

"I don't know. I think that I was in shock. You ran away, so I felt like I must have ruined everything. Charlotte, will you please let me see you?"

Charlotte hesitated for just long enough that Spencer felt sure that she would refuse, when she finally stated, "Yes, but I went home. If you want to see me then you will have to come here."

"Home…you mean you are in Louisiana?"

"Yes. I am out in Beaux Arbres visiting Bobby and the children now, but I will be going to stay at Charlie's house in Baton Rouge tomorrow."

There was a long silence as he tried to quickly calculate what he needed to arrange before he could leave. Spencer finally answered, "I will have to see if the night nurse that usually stays with Mom when I am on a case can come. I will fly out tomorrow if that is possible."

"Well you know where I will be on Sunday. I will meet you there if you come."

"Ok." Spencer felt his body sag as he realised that she was testing him and that he would not have another chance if he failed. "I can figure that out."

"I'm sorry. I need to go. Lucy-Claire needs my help."

"I will be there, Charlotte." Spencer shook his head to himself as he wondered how he could manage it, but he knew that he would find a way.

Clearly dubious that he would be willing to jump through the row of hoops that she had set for him, Charlotte said, "Well if you are, then you should sit in the family pew, which is the first on the left. However, I wouldn't sit there too early since the ushers don't know you."

"I understand. I will see you Sunday, Charlotte."

"Bye, Spencer."

Spencer flopped back against the railing of the hallway and groaned angrily. He was genuinely surprised that Charlotte would resort to putting him to the test by demanding that she attend church with her extended family all the way in Louisiana. She had led him to believe that she would never make demands regarding his religious participation. Now he had to wonder if she would expect even more. Also, she would probably be there with every sibling from Alistair to Therese. It was essentially an impossible scenario to win. Obviously, he would go anyway, although he now had to figure out which Catholic church in all of Baton Rouge would be the correct one.


	10. Chapter 10

Spencer sat miserably sandwiched between Charlotte's twin nieces, Genevieve and Laurette. Both girls had kindly tried to show him where to follow in the missal, but he nevertheless felt deeply uncomfortable and out of place. Now that the mass had ended, it seemed that the entire family was staying to pray a rosary. He wondered how long they would remain to maximise their religious experience. He imagined that there would probably be a social gathering afterwards or a meeting of some religious charitable group to attend.

Since he had only made it to the church just as the service was starting, he had not been able to sit next to Charlotte. Therefore, she was seated on the row in front of him between Bobby and Alistair, whereas he was squeezed into a pew with all the family's older children. Yet…his disappointment had been greatly tempered by the look of relief and, surprisingly, joy in Charlotte's eyes when she saw that he had come.

Although he understood a sufficient amount of Latin to comprehend the service, Spencer found the ritual and tradition so foreign that his mind could not keep from wandering to Charlotte. In any other circumstance, he would have found this sociologically and anthropologically fascinating. Yet, it was much less so when there was the possibility of becoming involved intimately and _permanently_ with this group.

Her reaction to his arrival gave him hope that she might have missed him as much as he had her. He watched her anxiously, unable to tell from her demeanour what she was thinking or what she was going to expect of him next. Her pale hair was only just visible under her long white lace scarf as she kept her head bowed over the petite gold rosary she was gripping so tightly. He let his eyes roam around the very beautiful church and wondered if he had passed her test, or if there was still more to go.

Finally, Bobby stood up, holding his wife's shawl out to wrap it around her, which seemed to be the signal for the whole family that it was time to leave. Therese immediately pulled herself up with the railing and waited for her husband, Lazare, to pick up their youngest to hand to her. Spencer could see that Therese had apparently inherited her mother's Rheumatoid Arthritis, which he knew Charlotte feared developing herself. After whispering something to his wife, who smiled brightly, Alistair gestured to his oldest son, who grabbed his brother's hand and raced to the back of the church to find their friends. Yet Charlotte remained seated with her little rosary in one hand, so Spencer understood that he and she were going to stay behind.

"Everyone is going to the parish centre to have doughnuts and things. Are you coming Mr Spencer?"

Surprised that the girl knew his name, Spencer realised that there must have been some talk in the family about Charlotte's situation, as he doubted Charlotte herself would have discussed him with her preteen nieces. He smiled at Laurette and replied, "I think that I will remain here with your aunt for now. Thank you for your help during the mass."

"No problem. Everyone has a hard time the first few times they come. My best friend is Catholic, but when she came with us one week she said it was like really weird. I don't know."

Trying to keep his voice low out of respect for their location, Spencer said in a friendly tone, "Well, I appreciate both of you helping me."

Laurette shrugged and giggled at Genevieve, who rolled her eyes and gestured with her head towards Charlotte. Both girls giggled again as they exited the pew and moved to leave.

Charlotte bent over and picked up her handbag into which she shoved her silver rosary case and a small, white Roman missal. Spencer stretched his back a bit and prepared to stand, when Charlotte turned to look at him with a shy, hopeful smile. "Would you like to walk around a bit and talk? I don't think that we need to join them in the parish centre."

Spencer stood up and budged closer to Charlotte. "I would like that very much." Remembering her brother Bobby's gesture, Spencer picked up Charlotte's shawl for her. He was immediately rewarded by Charlotte's surprised, delighted smile, so he clumsily attempted to help her wrap up in it.

Uncertain if she would be uncomfortable with physical contact while still inside the church, Spencer let his hand hover behind her lower back to guide her. However, when she looked up at him with obvious pleasure and gratefulness, he bent his head towards her and said, "I have missed you so much."

"Me, too. I didn't think you would come, you know, not after I avoided you for those three days."

Spencer shook his head. "I would have come further and done much more, Charlotte." As soon as they exited the church doors, Spencer placed his hand firmly on her back and whispered into her ear, "And I still will."

Charlotte turned so that she was facing him and asked apprehe nsively, "Even knowing that this is what you are going to have to live with? My weird, intense family and our cult-like traditions? My brothers pressuring me and giving you a difficult time? All of this?"

"Is that why you chose this test for me?" Spencer held Charlotte's gaze intently as he waited for her answer.

She dropped her eyes and answered with embarrassment, "I don't know. I suppose it is, isn't it? I was really young when Therese and Lazare married, but I can still remember how difficult the family made things for him when all he wanted to do was love my sister. I cannot imagine choosing to deal with our family dynamic if you don't even agree with our deepest held principles."

"I do agree with most of them. I just do not agree with your beliefs on the _source_ of these principles. Charlotte, I do not know how to be clearer than to say that I love you and I want to be with you always. If you and I are pursuing our adventure _together_ then we will face and conquer anything we meet. I believe that."

Her eyes filling with tears, Charlotte asked in a very wobbly voice, "You really believe that?"

"I do."

"Oh, so do I. I do, Spencer." Charlotte reached out and tucked her hand in his as she looked up at him tenderly. "It isn't fair that you have to compromise so much for us to be together."

Spencer shook his head as he led Charlotte into a well-kept, formal rose garden. "I am quite willing to do it. I don't want you to give up anything, Charlotte."

Turning to face him, Charlotte placed her hand on Spencer's chest and began absently fiddling with the edge of his tie as she talked. "I am sorry. I should have asked you to come, instead of forcing you. I don't know why I needed you to prove yourself. You've never been anything other than wonderful and generous about everything I ask of you."

Spencer stopped walking and looked down at her. "If I have demonstrated whatever you needed to know, then it was worth me coming."

Charlotte looked all around and behind her then, seeing that they were quite alone, threw both her arms around Spencer's neck and kissed him rapidly before guiltily pulling away. "Oh my goodness, I have missed you so much, Spencer. This has been awful."

Spencer let go of the breath he had been holding and replied tersely, "It has." He placed his finger under her chin and gently lifted it, so she would look him in the eye. "I understand what I was doing wrong. I will work on better communicating what I am thinking or feeling."

"Much of the fault is mine though. I should have just talked to you about things, instead of losing it like that. I overreacted because I was being driven crazy by Charlie and Bobby and even Thom a bit. Then, it just felt like you were putting up the same roadblocks that they were. It seemed like I was the only one who saw more positive than negative."

Spencer shook his head. "I know that I can obsess about my concerns. That does not mean that I do not believe in our relationship."

"I am so glad. I have felt like a pie with all the insides scooped out. I've been worrying about you and how hurt you must have been."

Spencer slid his hand down to her lower back and held her close enough to him that she could barely see his face. "Then why didn't you call me or at least answer when I called you, Charlotte?"

"I'm not sure. My emotions seemed to be ruling everything and I have always been a logical person. It was terrifying. I needed to come back home to be able to figure everything out."

"Did you?"

Charlotte sighed. "Yes, almost immediately, but coming back here always messes me up a bit. I love it so much here, but it is all interwoven with so much sorrow. Sometimes, I get kind of lost in remembering and I have trouble dragging myself back to the present. I have wondered how good returning is for me." Gesturing beyond the rose garden towards a cemetery with an iron fence, Charlotte said heavily, "All of the Landrys, except Uncle Alistair, are buried over there and a lot of the Theriaults, including my Daddy. Also, my siblings and my parents were married here. So were my maternal grandparents and great-grandparents."

"Then we will be married here, Charlotte. We should request banns be posted."

Startled by his unequivocal response, Charlotte asked, "Are we really ready for that? Do you understand what that means, Spencer?"

Quite confused why she would seem so surprised, Spencer answered, "Of course I do. My feelings for you are unchanged."

"We cannot act as though I did not just derail the train for a bit, Spencer. Regardless of our feelings, we should make careful, logical choices about our future. Do we even want the same things?"

Spencer reached out to smooth a strand of Charlotte's hair as he seriously said, "I hope so, but we perhaps we should talk seriously about it."

"Did you notice that it was squeeze room only on that pew where you sat? Do you want to help fill up another pew with a row of Reid children? That is what is on offer here."

"Why would you assume that I would be uncomfortable with having a large family with you? We talked about it several times in the last few weeks, Charlotte."

"Yeah, I know, but it is a lot to commit to, Spencer. Oh dear, we have been out here quite some time." Charlotte tapped the face of her watch and looked anxiously up at Spencer.

"What do you want to do now? Should we join your family?"

Biting her lip briefly, Charlotte answered with uncertainty, "Well we kind of have to, but I want you to get to know them anyway. Do you mind?"

Spencer looked as if he dreaded even the thought of an hour spent with Charlotte's family. However, he lied boldly. "Not at all. I have not met Alistair and Therese yet."

"Good. We all go back to Therese's house for lunch usually. It will be a long, large lunch. Then Bobby usually takes his family back to Beaux Arbres, which is down in Assumption Parish. I had planned to stay at Charlie's house, but you will need to stay with Alistair."

Spencer swallowed firmly and said only, "Ok."

"I assume you don't have a lot of time to stay? If you do, then we could go down to Beaux Arbres instead, but I was thinking that you probably have to get back to your Mama."

"Yes, and I am due back to work on Tuesday."

"Then we will stay up here. I think you and Alistair might get along decently. You said you'd read up on the Revolutionary War a little, right?"

Spencer nodded. "Extensively—as you suggested."

"Then let him take you into the War Room. He will _love_ that you can remember details and discuss them with him."

"All right, I will."

"Oh golly, here comes Therese." Charlotte flushed bright red and gripped Spencer's hand firmly.

Spencer turned around and saw a petite, imperious looking woman, who was very much like Charlotte in appearance, bearing down on them. As she approached he noticed with fascination the elaborate twirls and twists that she had used to pin all her very long, black hair onto the top of her head.

"Therese, I would like you to meet my fiancé, Dr Spencer Reid. Spencer, this is Therese Theriault-Saucier, my sister."

The older woman scrutinised Spencer for a moment before saying, "Welcome to the family, Spencer. I have heard a lot about you from my brothers, but you should know that I don't listen much to them. You come on and tell me a little bit about yourself. Charlotte, I think that Alistair wants to talk to you for a minute."

Spencer felt Therese slide her arm through his and understood that he was supposed to escort her—the long way—back to the rest of the family and that Charlotte was dismissed. The only sound as they began slowly walking was Therese's silver handled cane tapping rhythmically on the pavement. She said nothing until Charlotte was definitely out of earshot.

"Now then, let's talk. I did a good bit of reading up about you, Dr Reid, and I don't know why my brothers are raising such a d*mn fool ruckus. Charlotte has clearly fallen head over heels for you and you don't _look_ like a man too stupid to recognise when you have the best girl in the world. You are a baptised Catholic, I understand?"

Spencer cleared his through and answered uncertainly, "I was baptised, but nothing more."

Therese waved the end of her stick as if to say that his reply was inconsequential. "Well, the rest will come. Lazare was actually a _Protestant_ , if you can believe that, but he came to his senses. The important thing to me is that my baby sister is happy. Are you going to make her happy, Dr Reid?"

"I can promise you that I want nothing more, Mrs Saucier."

Therese might have been over a foot shorter, but she stared up at him like he was a wayward child, as she said, "Well that is fine. Of course, I will slowly skin you alive myself if you hurt her, but let's don't worry about that now. I think that Thom has agreed to marry you down here?"

"We did not mention a location when we met with Father Thomas, but this is your family church. I think that is what Charlotte wants."

Pleased, Therese demanded, "You don't have an objection? No family obligations of your own?"

"No, I do not."

"Well that's all good then. Do you intend to keep working at the FBI, Dr Reid?"

Surprised, Spencer stammered, "Well, I-I have never considered anything else, Mrs Saucier."

"But you can't move to a local office out here in Louisiana."

Shaking his head regretfully, Spencer explained, "I'm afraid not, ma'am. My speciality is restricted to the Quantico location."

"That was what I thought. Charlotte seems to like Catholic University."

"I think that she does, yes. She has said that feels that she is respected by most of her colleagues and she wants to continue working with Dr Schomburg."

"Good. Charlotte has been very clear with the family that she would not allow us to donate a penny to any place where she studied or where she now works. She thinks it would taint her reputation and she's probably right. However, that means that I don't know how she is really doing. She isn't very forthcoming."

"I think that she talks to Senator Theriault a little, ma'am."

Therese fixed a firm eye on Spencer and said with asperity, "Oh she won't tell Charlie anything real, but I think she just might with you."

Quite surprised, Spencer responded instinctively, "Yes, ma'am."

"Well…come on inside now. Everyone is going to my house for lunch and you are invited. I hope that you brought your appetite. You look thin enough to eat anything."

"Thank you, Mrs Saucier. I would like that very much." Spencer scanned the room urgently looking for Charlotte and found her now animatedly talking to her oldest brother.

Therese looked at Spencer with a mixture of pity and encouragement, patted him on the shoulder, and said, "You just take care of my favourite sibling and we will be all right, Dr Reid. Better go rescue her from Bobby. It looks like he is cross-examining her. I say he ought to have been the attorney, not Alistair, since he never met a question he would hesitate to bully you into answering. Can you just imagine him being your rheumatologist?"

Spencer stammered incomprehensibly as he extricated himself from Charlotte's older sister, who was inexplicably lending him her support with the family. As he hurried over to Charlotte's side, he was stopped by Alistair.

"Therese voting to keep you on the island, Dr Reid?"

"I…yes?"

Alistair, who despite being nearly 6'5" looked so like Charlotte it was startling, smiled stiffly. "If you got Terrifying Therese on your side then things are looking up. You should cut your hair. People will take you more seriously professionally if you follow cultural norms."

Spencer frowned. "I don't think that my hair makes that much of a difference frankly."

Alistair shrugged and started bouncing on his toes as he said seriously, "Your choice. We wear suits to mass, too. Remember that next time. Anyway, you are staying at my house tonight, Charlotte says."

"Uh, thank you."

"She also says that you know a bit about Cowpens. I've been working on that lately. I've only been five or six times. Have you?"

"No actually. All my knowledge is from books. I would be interested to hear what you think."

Alistair asked curiously, "Would you? Or are you just being polite? I can't always tell, and my wife says that I can bore the spines off a porcupine when I get started talking."

Spencer smiled genuinely. "Occasionally, my teammates at work have to tell me to be quiet when I get too excited about facts. I understand the feeling. If I'm bored, then I will let you know."

Nodding acceptance of Spencer's reply, Alistair said abruptly, "You will be driving Charlotte, I assume, so I will see you at Therese's house." He then turned and walked away without further comment, leaving Spencer standing alone.

Sighing deeply, Spencer continued across the room on his trek to reach Charlotte. When he reached her, she turned her back on Bobby and said firmly, "Are you ready to leave, Spencer? I'd really like to go now."

Spencer nodded to Bobby, who looked thoroughly incensed that his sister was now ignoring him, and said cautiously, "Very well."

"I expect to see you at Therese and Lazare's house, Sissy."

Charlotte turned her head slowly and said with a long, exaggerated drawl, "We will be there, but this conversation is done, Bobby."

Embarrassed, since he knew quite well that their argument concerned him, Spencer nodded again to Bobby, as Charlotte urgently tucked her arm through his.


	11. Chapter 11

Nestling her head into Spencer's shoulder, Charlotte said softly, "I just think that it might be better if we introduce everything slowly, Spencer. Your mama has not remembered meeting me the last two times that I have come by. If she is uncomfortable with my continued presence, then we can take it a bit at a time."

Spencer made a noise of displeasure and replied, "I know that it is not logical, Charlotte, but I want you to get to know her. Mom is still in there…sometimes…and she won't be for much longer. If we move slowly, then you just won't see that."

Charlotte turned and kissed his cheek tenderly. "I want to know her, too. She helped to make you who you are. I am sorry that we met too late for me to know her before the Alzheimer's did so much damage."

Relishing the feeling of her head snuggling into his chest, Spencer said with a slight laugh, "Mom would have enjoyed having academic arguments with you, I think, although she might have taken a while to warm up to you. She can be oddly jealous of my affection, yet she has also worried continually that I had no friends. I know that it deeply concerned her that I never found anyone. She was very upset that I would never have children."

"I don't think that it is too odd that she might be jealous of your affection, Spencer. You were her entire world, weren't you? She would want the best for you."

Spencer tightened his arm around Charlotte and kissed the top of her head. "I have found that."

Charlotte looked up at him with a look of such affection that Spencer caught his breath for a moment. She whispered, "You are very wonderful, you know."

Spencer smiled down at her, but Charlotte could hear the misery in his voice as he mumbled, "I love you."

Turning her head so she could really look at him properly, Charlotte sat up quickly as she saw the sharp pain in his eyes. "I am so sorry this is happening, Spencer. It is brutally unfair for you and for her."

Making an angry noise in his throat, Spencer stated, "More so for her, Charlotte."

"Of course, it is terrible for your mother, Spencer. I cannot imagine how awful it is for her to go through this second betrayal after decades of schizophrenia. That does not change that it is awful for you. It _is_ unfair to you and you are allowed to feel that way."

"I don't want to feel that way, Charlotte. I want for my mother to get better or at least not get worse. After all those years when I rarely visited out of…crushing guilt…I…I wrote her about everything that ever happened to me and now…now she won't know. She won't remember what I told her then. She won't know that I have finally found you. She won't know if she becomes a grandmother. She won't even know her name. How am I supposed to accept that?"

Charlotte slid her hands around his arm and squeezed comfortingly, but he pulled away and stood up. She watched in silence as he paced the floor frenetically. She knew perfectly well that he was dangerously close to a meltdown—having had a lifetime of recognising the same signs in Alistair—but, as she had never seen him experience one or talked with him about it, she did not know how best to help him.

The door to the apartment opened suddenly, as Regina walked through and then stopped awkwardly in the entrance. Charlotte gestured to Regina while she snatched up her handbag from the table in front of her. "Spencer, maybe we could go for a walk now that Regina is back?"

He did not reply other than to pick up his keys from the kitchen counter, so Charlotte smiled apologetically at Regina and followed Spencer into the hallway outside. He waited for her impatiently, while she carefully closed the door and scurried to the stairs where he was standing. As he stood holding out his hand to her, he asked gruffly, "Will you be warm enough?"

Charlotte looked down at her thin wrap and knew that she wouldn't, but she insisted, "I will be fine. Where do you want to go?"

Spencer shrugged. "A walk then the coffee shop. That is my routine."

Knowing very well how important routine and ritual was at a time like this, Charlotte nodded and slipped her hand inside his.

They proceeded on more of a march than a walk. Not a word was said, although Charlotte was aware of Spencer glancing down at her several times. Nevertheless, she felt that her presence was more of an intrusion than a source of support or a calming influence. Finally, Charlotte felt a change in Spencer's body language, which seemed to indicate either a decision made or at least a willingness to consider finalising their plans. His pace dropped dramatically and he stepped infinitesimally closer to her, yet the difference was important and meaningful.

"A block up is the coffee shop that I like to go to when I finish up my walks."

Charlotte did not risk doing anything other than saying, "Ok."

As they approached the short shopping strip in which a small sign for Louis' Café was clearly visible, Spencer looked down at Charlotte and frowned with displeasure as he noticed for the first time her thin cashmere wrap and the light silk dress underneath. "You must be cold. Stop a minute, Charlotte. Put this on." Spencer stripped off his thick black wool cardigan, which he was wearing over a purple cotton jumper.

Charlotte gratefully accepted, since she was cold enough to feel a deep, unpleasant chill throughout her body. "Won't you be cold, Spencer? Your sweater is cotton and there is a breeze."

As Charlotte tried to tuck her arm in one long sleeve, Spencer reached for the cardigan and held it up for her to slip into more easily. "It is immaterial. Will you have a tea or a hot chocolate?"

Charlotte swallowed the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the cardigan, which passed her knees in length and dangled a few inches past her hands. "Tea please?"

He opened the door and waited for her to enter. "Would you like to sit down while I order?"

Charlotte nodded and replied in a small voice, "Yes, ok."

By the time that Spencer walked over to her table with a cup in each hand, Charlotte had rolled the sleeves up to her forearms and was waiting hopefully for him to sit. "The only black tea that they had was chai, which you don't like. I got you a jasmine. Is that fine?"

Charlotte smiled brightly. "I love jasmine tea, thank you."

Spencer placed the cup in front of her and his own at the seat across from her and replied, "I have to go back for something."

Charlotte leant her elbows onto the table and waited for him to return. When he did, he was holding a plate with two large chocolate chip cookies. She smiled again as she looked at him and said, "Those look good."

"They make their own. Not many coffee shops have genuinely good cookies."

"I agree. Is chocolate chip your favourite?"

"No. Peanut butter. I could eat a half dozen in one sitting."

"Mmm, yes. I like oatmeal raisin too, but my favourite are these delectable things that a bakery back home makes. Marzipan and chocolate chip. Amazing."

Spencer nodded. "Sounds quite good."

"And good macarons, as well. They are trendy right now, so there are a lot of bakeries that purchase them in. Most of them are pretty awful though. However, a good one is wonderful. Laduree even manages to make apricot ones taste lovely and I don't like fruit cookies. In general, though I get pistachio or almond. Oh and hazelnut."

"Nut flavoured macarons. Got it."

"Do you like them?"

"I prefer chocolate or raspberry, but yes."

"I am so glad that you are a fellow sweet tooth."

"Doughnut flavour?"

"Cocoanut flakes on cake doughnuts or strawberry frosted."

"Chocolate frosted."

"Hm, not my favourite. Well you won't have to worry about me eating yours then."

Spencer smiled tightly and nodded. He changed subjects so rapidly that Charlotte blinked with surprise at him. "My mother used to worry incessantly about everything I was doing. Her letters were full of comments, questions, advice, and concerns. Of course, this was in between major episodes. Now she doesn't ask me questions and doesn't seem to have any worry or thought about me, or more properly the boy that she remembers me being."

"I cannot imagine how painful this is for you, Spencer, so I am not sure if this is the right thing to say. However, she seems very much at peace regarding you, which could be a blessing and a relief for her after years of anxiety. She told me the last time that I talked with her that her son was going to Caltech next year. She was radiant with pride about you."

Spencer pursed his lips angrily, but replied with sadness, "Yes, she thinks I am still 12. I don't know why she is stuck on that age particularly."

"Perhaps because it was the last time that you lived with her?"

Spencer breathed out sharply in surprise. "I don't know why I had not realised that. You are completely right."

"Mmm, well I cannot imagine that it was easy for her to have you go off to college at almost 13. She lost years of her son's childhood."

"I know. I was never a normal boy though, Charlotte."

Uncertain if he was ready to be touched, Charlotte reached her hand out and placed it in front of his on the table as an invitation. "You were normal to her. You are her son, Spencer. It is perfectly evident to me that she loves you above anything else."

Spencer sighed deeply and linked his pinky with her forefinger. "None of the trouble was her fault. She did everything she could."

"I know, honey. I am very sure she did. Paranoid schizophrenia is a devastating illness. There is no normal life within its circle of influence, is there?"

"No. No, there is not."

First taking a large gulp of his very hot coffee, Spencer then set his cup down and asked, "Do you regret asking for an immediate posting of the banns? We still haven't worked everything out. We haven't met with a relationship counsellor. Are we moving too quickly for you?"

Deciding that he needed her to be bold, Charlotte laid her hand on his arm and said seriously, "No, Spencer, the situation with your mama is getting too serious for you to handle alone. Do you want to wait longer? If you do, then we can ask for Thom to find a later date. However, I do not need to wait a minute longer. I am ready."

Spencer's hand slid up to grip hers firmly. "No, I don't need or want to wait either. It isn't truly that I cannot handle my mother's situation, but that I would have to place her in a facility. The nurses have all but refused to continue in home care as I have it now."

"Yes, but I thought that if we hired three around the clock teams of two nurses each that they would agree to stay. When I talked to Regina on Friday, that is the compromise that she was willing to accept."

Spencer sat forwards, causing Charlotte to pull back sympathetically, and gripped his head in his hands. He spoke with anguish, "That means paying for six nursing shifts, Charlotte. Do you understand the enormous cost of that?"

"I do, since Regina and I discussed it explicitly, and I don't really care. You only get to do this for your mama once, Spencer. It is money well spent. My main concern is how to transition her to the house from here. That is a big change. I know we aren't married yet, but Regina thinks that we should move her now."

Spencer growled with frustration and slumped back into his chair. "I have been thinking about that, too. It really is the only option if we are going to have that many nurses working with Mom. My apartment is far too small." Spencer looked down at his hands and sighed. "I've lived there for 10 years. It should feel strange to think of living somewhere else, but it doesn't. I think that it hasn't been home in a while. Certainly not since I returned from prison."

Charlotte bit her lip and looked at Spencer, clearly uncertain how to reply. She settled on stroking her thumb lightly against the back of his hand.

"Unless I am travelling for the FBI or if you count the mattresses in prison, I haven't actually slept on a bed in 18 months."

"And you have not had any private space really, have you? You need that, Spencer."

Spencer lifted his face so he was looking directly at Charlotte and said with resolve, "I don't need space away from you, Charlotte. I want precisely the opposite."

Smiling with obvious pleasure when Spencer kissed her hand, Charlotte insisted nevertheless, "You should have a room where you can work privately. We will still be working out how we fit together as a couple. It is not wise to force things due to sentiment. If we both find that we work perfectly well in the same space, then we can share the study. But I think maybe one of us can take the library just for now."

Spencer nodded and smiled slightly. "That would be a novelty. If I ever dreamt of having my own house when I was a boy, I am sure that an extensive library was part of my requirements."

Charlotte laughed. "Well I know it was one of mine as an adult. As long as I had a ridiculous amount of space for books and was close to Bucie's barn, then I didn't care very much what the house looked like. Charlie was the one who insisted on large entertaining spaces, an extensive garden, and, of course, a ridiculous security system."

"To be honest, that is my favourite feature of the house. After what has happened to the families of the BAU team members, I am extremely concerned about your safety."

"I know. You've said that. A lot."

Gripping her hand firmly, Spencer explained with unusual forcefulness, "Charlotte, my mother was kidnapped and I was put in prison. Hotch's wife was killed and then he had to go into witness protection to protect his son. Then there are all the things that have happened to each member of the team. Our unit has the highest number of requests for personal protection details of any in the FBI, except organised crime. Since you can afford the highest security, then you should have it. Your electronic system is only a starting point."

"Okay. What do you want me to do, Spencer, hire a bodyguard?"

Spencer hesitated before he asked hopefully, "Would you?"

"No! I am not going to run around with a hired muscleman. What would he do when I was teaching a class? The whole thing is silly. I said that I will agree to a full-time, live-in housekeeper with security training. I will agree to a car service. That is really pushing my limit already."

Clearly not satisfied, but choosing to accept her decision, Spencer said flatly, "I understand, Charlotte. I am not going to force the issue. You will be part of any decision that I make."

"Okay. Promise?"

"I promise." Spencer gestured with his hand vaguely as he said anxiously, "Regina seemed to think that it did not matter how we transitioned Mom, since she would be heavily sedated. It is hard to know what my mother will notice or remember now. She has deteriorated so quickly in this last year."

"Yes, but her psychiatrist told us that this is not an unusual pattern for someone with her history. It is not your fault."

His voice raising due to his increasing agitation, Spencer replied, "I don't know that. The time that she was in captivity was highly traumatising, Charlotte. Could that have precipitated a rapid deterioration like this? Dr Sang could not rule it out."

Charlotte purposely caught his eye and chose her words with great care, as she said, "Spencer, he said that he could not rule it out, since they had no research regarding the affect of kidnapping on an Alzheimer's patient. That is not causation or even direct correlation. What must the sample size of that patient base be, Spencer?"

Spencer laughed in spite of himself. "Yes, I know that you are right. I'm just worried."

"I know, but I think that you have always worried about her. We have your mother in the best possible situation right now and we are moving her to something even better. She will have total care.

* * *

"But did he tell you where he was going? Reid never takes time off. This is the second time in six weeks, right? He was supposed to be back on Wednesday. I'm worried."

JJ shook her head and looked at Prentiss as she replied, "He said he was taking personal time. I admit that he has not looked good lately. I'm concerned about him, too, Garcia, but Spence can take care of himself."

Garcia looked anxiously between JJ and Prentiss, who had not yet said anything. Finally, Garcia asked, "You know something though, don't you?"

Prentiss sighed. "I can't comment on his personal life if he wants it kept private, Penelope, you know that. He has worked on several profile consults while he has been out of town, so I'm not too worried about the state of his mind. Anyway, Reid is supposed to be back this afternoon. Apparently, his flight was very late last night, so I told him to take a half-day."

Looking back and forth between JJ and Prentiss, Garcia commented, "It must have been very late if he agreed to that. It just doesn't sound like our Reid. Wait, his mother is here with him now, so he wouldn't be going out to Las Vegas. Where was he going?"

Prentiss took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "In my opinion, Penelope, that is his business. However, you can ask him that himself. Looks like he didn't take that half day. Reid is at his desk already."

Exclaiming excitedly, Garcia scurried over to Spencer's desk, leaving JJ and Prentiss alone. "Should I be concerned, Emily?"

Prentiss frowned. "It's hard to say. He has a lot going on. However, if he wants to keep it private, then we need to respect that."

Garcia's voice carried excitedly through Prentiss' open door. JJ grimaced and said, "Poor Spence. Let me go out there."

Prentiss smiled tautly but didn't reply.

As JJ approached Spencer's desk, she stopped short when she noticed something that shocked her. However, she saw Spencer's plea extremely clearly in the way he looked at her, so she nodded to him and said nothing.


	12. Chapter 12

Spencer knew that it was JJ standing behind him before she even spoke. He was aware that he had done something that would wound her, but it was done and could not be undone. He had successfully avoided discussing it with her during the case in New Orleans, but it was time to get it over with.

"Spence."

Spencer sighed and turned around. "I know. We should talk, right?"

JJ nodded. "Come up to my office?"

He sighed again. "Let me get my bag together—and send Charlotte a text. I am supposed to pick her up in about an hour."

"In the city? Not with this traffic, Spence."

"I know, I know. I am not good with this commute thing. I've been late to get her four times now."

JJ asked cautiously, "Why does she not drive herself?"

"She used to, but I won't let her right now. Next week she will be using the car service, so this is the last day she has to wait for me."

Startled, JJ stated, "You won't _let_ her? Spencer…"

In a harsh voice that made his refusal quite clear, Spencer said, "I don't want to have that conversation right now, Jennifer. Ok? I'm ready." Spencer slipped the strap of his bag over his head, then tried to smile apologetically at his co-worker and friend.

Frowning with surprised displeasure at Spencer's attitude, JJ said, "All right. My office then."

Spencer followed her out of the bull pen and down the corridor to the office that JJ was using during Prentiss' suspension. He knew that he was not a leader, nor did he truly wish to be, but it did bother him that of all his colleagues he was the only one still stuck out in the bull pen after more than 13 years with the BAU. No one else had stayed as long as he had without being promoted or given further responsibility. He worked longer hours than most of them, contributed equally, and completed more than his share of paperwork, consults, and reviews. It was simply the way things were. He had caused the FBI too many headaches, so Spencer was never going to rise through the ranks. He loved working there, but he wondered at times whether he remained more for his BAU family than for the work. Perhaps it was foolish of him not to consider a future in academics, however he did not think that he could ever leave. Men like him did not usually get to fight the bad guys and save lives.

JJ closed the door behind them and said seriously, "I really cannot believe that you didn't feel you could tell me, Spence. I would have kept the secret, if that was what you needed."

"What would you have said, JJ, if I told you that I was flying out to Baton Rouge to marry a girl that I had known less than six months? A girl who you haven't even met yet. Also, if you ask Will he will tell you about the Theriault family."

"I did. Last night. And I would have been surprised, but I would have supported you."

Shocked, Spencer looked over at her. "I never told you her last name before. How did you know?"

Surprised, as Spencer rarely forgot anything, JJ reminded him gently, "Actually, you did tell all of us when you announced you were engaged. Anyway, I Googled your wedding. It was easy enough, since there was a large article on The Advocate website with her picture and everything."

Spencer clenched his fists angrily. "Charlotte will not be pleased about that. She specifically asked Bobby and Therese not to do so."

"Well they did. Your name is mentioned once. The rest is all about her accomplishments and her family. Will nearly fell off the couch when he heard that you had married into that family, Spence. Do you know Senator Theriault's reputation? He is supposed to be absolutely merciless. Will says the family are ruthless power brokers with incredible wealth."

Spencer nodded. "Yes, I am aware of all that, but I am not keen for everyone here to know it. I really want the team to get to know her without any preconceptions."

JJ nodded, but said seriously, "I think that everyone will just be thrilled to know that you are happy. If she loves you, then we will like her."

"I didn't keep it from you because I don't trust you, JJ. I just needed to do this without being asked if I was sure or why we couldn't wait or if I should reconsider whether I could live with her family—especially their extremely strict religious observance in addition to everything else. Morgan asked all of those questions and more." His voice rough with urgency, Spencer pleaded for understanding, "I couldn't go through that again, Jennifer. I needed privacy. My life has been a painfully raw wound this last year that was entirely open to everyone. I am a private man; you know that."

"I do. I understand, Spencer. I do. Please tell me that Morgan knew at least."

Shocked, as he had expected her to be hurt that he had included Morgan when he had not told her, Spencer stammered, "Of-of course. He was my best man."

JJ smiled slightly. "I'm glad."

There was a long, uncomfortable pause as Spencer stared down at the floor thinking. Finally, he said with a trace of nervousness, "I want you to meet Charlotte before I introduce her to everyone else. Would you and Will be able to meet us at Acadiana?"

Surprised, JJ's eyebrows shot up as she replied, "When?"

"Saturday?"

"I will have to see if I can find someone to watch the boys. I will call you, ok?"

Spencer nodded and stood awkwardly in front of JJ, who was sitting on the edge of her desk. "She is very quiet and introverted. I am concerned about introducing her to some of the others."

"Well Emily knows. I didn't tell her, but she knows. Rossi also knows."

"Yes, he cornered me when I was fixing my coffee on the jet yesterday. He'd noticed my ring like you did. I know that Emily knows. When she approved my leave, she made it clear she had figured it out without actually saying so."

"You should tell Penelope privately; not at the same time as Tara, Simmons, and Alvez."

Spencer looked up again and regarded JJ for a second, before he acquiesced. "Ok. I will."

JJ slid off the desk and put her hand on his shoulder. "Oh Spence, I really am happy for you. I hope that you and Charlotte will be truly happy."

"I am happy. There are things to work through, but it will be good." Spencer sighed deeply with both exhaustion and relief at being able to talk about his marriage openly. He continued simply, "I love her, you see."

Pushing her sadness and concern for her friend deep down, JJ said genuinely, "I know. I am glad you have finally found the right person, Spence. I really am. Walk out with me to our cars? You need to get going to pick up your wife."

Spencer smiled suddenly at the thought that Charlotte was now his wife, but said only, "Do you want me to carry anything?"

"No, I have it. Let's go?"

Spencer opened the door and waited for JJ.

* * *

"So, Charlie called me this afternoon. He said that the AUSA who was such a horror during Spencer's case has already been let go."

Philippa looked up from her bowl of ice cream and said with surprise, "Charlie didn't directly intervene, did he? Couldn't he get in trouble for that?"

Charlotte shrugged. "No, of course he didn't. My brother is never going to compromise himself for anyone. I'm sure he was very cautious with his language. On a tip from someone else entirely, OPR investigated AUSA Martinez through all the proper channels. They found cause and he has been let go. Actually, there is now an investigation into two other AUSAs and Martinez' superior. It is extremely satisfying, I have to admit."

"Is this due to Spencer's situation or was there other inappropriate conduct?"

Waving her hand dismissively, Charlotte replied with transparent satisfaction, "No, it seems there was a pattern of unprofessional behaviour and personal vendettas. In fact, Charlie said that Martinez is likely to be facing charges for ethics violations. He is responsible for supporting the warden of Millburn Correctional in refusing protective custody to Spencer."

Philippa's brow furrowed as she asked in disbelief, "Why? He had to know that could get back to him."

"Not really. The warden 'asked' if there was a legitimate threat and Martinez told him that in the view of the federal government the threat was non-existent. It is standard practice to keep police and federal agents—especially those who are still active—in protective custody or at least segregated. To refuse to do so could be considered malice."

"Did he really think that or…"

Charlotte laughed bitterly. "Oh no. Nope. Martinez was told to prosecute Spencer with prejudice. He claims that he was told that Spencer was a dirty agent and that the BAU regularly breaks protocol and the law to get their job done. Charlie says that is why there is currently an investigation of the US Attorney."

Still very confused, Philippa asked, "But why would the warden _want_ to place a federal agent in the general population? It is practically asking for him to be murdered. Wouldn't that make him look bad?"

"I have no idea, but he looks pretty bad right now. Millburn is part of the Federal BOP, so OPR is supposed to investigate there as well, although Charlie says that will likely go nowhere."

"And Charlie really has nothing to do with this? He isn't pushing the investigation?"

Charlotte's expression changed to one with which Philippa was very familiar after years of watching her best friend's fraught relationship with the overbearing and exceedingly arrogant Senator Charles-Luc Theriault. Charlotte's tone clearly bespoke of her frustration with Charlie, as she explained, "No, he said that he was not willing to do so, since Spencer is not a constituent. In fact, Charlie insisted that I show him proof that there was wrongdoing or corruption—that it wasn't all just Spencer's fault—before Charlie would even make an enquiry about Martinez. When he told me that Martinez had been fired and that the investigation was ongoing, Charlie admitted that maybe I was right that Spencer had been unfairly treated."

"Good." Philippa shook her head in annoyance. She had long disliked Charlie, who she felt was sometimes more concerned with his public image than his little sister's feelings.

Charlotte clenched her jaws together angrily, as she paused to find her self-control. Finally, she breathed in and out slowly and then said, "In my opinion every single last one of them should be brought up on charges, Pips. The way they handled my Spencer's case was beyond the pale. While still awaiting trial, they denied him bail and then shoved him in general population of a maximum-security prison—despite being a federal agent with no past history of wrongdoing. When there, he was mistreated and abused by prisoners and guards alike. Frankly, I want every single one of those people tossed into jail where they can sit in a small, miserable cell for months as they wait for trial. That is no worse than they were quite comfortable doing to my husband."

Philippa reached out her hand and placed it on Charlotte's arm as she said in a shaken voice, "I have never seen you like this, Charlotte. You are actually scaring me a bit, honey. I know you love Spencer. He was wrongly accused and unfairly treated, but that does not mean the prosecutors committed any actual crimes."

Tears starting to run down her face, Charlotte explained urgently, "If you knew what happened to him in there, Pips…how he was tortured…how it affected his mind…no, Pips, no. Spencer deserves justice and an investigation of those responsible for making his life a misery. It is so much better that Charlie didn't have to push for an investigation, since I know Spencer would not like me to involve my family."

"But surely by talking to Charlie you did so anyway."

"No, you know that I would never do something that Spencer requested me not to do. I asked him if I could get Charlie to find out if OPR had looked into Martinez. He said that was all right."

"Did you tell him what Charlie found out yet?"

"No. Not yet. Charlie only called me this afternoon. Things are kind of weird over at the BAU right now, so it is probably better if he puts all his focus on that."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't talk about it, actually. Spencer forbade me from discussing it with anyone."

"Is everything ok?"

"He is still employed there. That is all I will say, Pips."

"Fine. OK. It's a good thing that Rhys has never forbidden me to do anything. I would not take that well."

Charlotte's eyes flashed with annoyance. "I will never knowingly do anything to upset my husband. Ever."

Philippa shrugged nonchalantly, but Charlotte could see her friend was quite angry herself. "Far be it from me to get in the way of your relationship, my dear. Subservience was never my style."

"Subservience?" Charlotte gripped the edge of the table and glared furiously at her friend. "It is respect, Philippa. I respect Spencer and I love him. If he asks me not to do something, then I won't unless I have a truly amazing reason to do otherwise. If there is something that I can do that would help him, then I will do it. Heaven knows that my Spencer would do nearly anything to help me. That is mutual love and respect."

"I understand that is how you see it and that is fine. It seems to me that Spencer takes care of you like a child and you obey him nearly without question. That is not a dynamic that I would enjoy."

Charlotte stood up from the table, grabbed both hers and Philippa's empty bowls, and said clearly, "I think we ought to stop this topic of conversation right now, Philippa, before either of us says anything that cannot be forgiven."

Standing up as well, Philippa nodded and picked up their tea cups before she answered, "I'm sorry, honey. I know that you and Spencer have a different style of relationship than Rhys and me. I should not have described it that way. That was not fair."

"You of all people should know that I don't want to be treated like a child, Pips. I have six siblings who already baby me nearly to distraction. Spencer respects me and honours my intellect; just as I know that he is capable, honourable, sensible, kind, and extraordinarily intelligent. My opinion matters to him, just as his does to me. He does not order me around, nor am I expected to obey him."

"Okay, I am sorry, honey. I admit that I was bang out of order. You come from a very different culture to me and after Clive…independence is of paramount importance to me."

"Would you really ignore Rhys' wishes for just the sake of independence?"

"You know I would, since I have done. For the most part, I end up realising that I was wrong and he was right. He has a massively annoying habit of being right nearly all the time, s*d him. Yet, I can't allow him to break me to harness, you know? Clive broke me so well that I actually apologised to himwhen he disapproved of me switching to another brand of hair products. Once I start following someone else's lead, then it won't be long before I'm submitting to his orders."

Charlotte sighed. "I don't agree, but then you know that. What you are describing is not equality, but simply Rhys being forced to accept whatever you want to do without any say on his part. That doesn't sound much like love, Pips. Anyway, I'm tired of holding these dishes. Let's go put them in the sink for Yesenia, ok? I don't like to leave a big mess for her."

"Right, ok."

As they crossed the corridor and entered the immense, immaculate kitchen, Charlotte added cautiously, "You do know that Rhys is not Clive, dear. If you were to take one of his suggestions to heart or even agree to make a mutual decision, that would not mean that he would be likely to start trying to order you around. He is far too decent to think of doing that."

"I made a promise to myself the day that I got the restraining order and pressed charges against Clive that I was never going to allow myself to be owned by anyone ever again."

"Philippa, a partnership is mutual. It is not ownership."

"The day that a man tells me what to do then I am little better than chattel. I have been in that position and I can't go there again."

Charlotte regarded her best friend sadly, then suddenly gave her a hug. "I'm sorry that you feel that way, Pips. I hope that you and Rhys will be able to make things work. I know you love each other."

"I really ought to go, actually. I want a proper bath before Rhys and I go to the charity do this evening."

Charlotte nodded. "Ok, honey. I hope you have fun."

"Sure you and Spencer don't want to join us?"

"No thank you. I can't do charity things for the university. The family is very cautious where we lend our name."

Still looking very uneasy—aware that she had made a substantial misstep with her friend that had not yet been put right, Philippa said, "Right. OK. I will see you on Monday for lunch, right?"

"Definitely. Come by my building? I think I have only an hour before I have to meet with a student."

"All right. No, I'll just go out through the garage, ok? No need for you to bother."

Slightly embarrassed, Charlotte said, "Well you can't go out that way actually. Spencer has added another level of security. The garage has a special code and the garage door won't open without yet another code or the fob in the car."

"Wow, ok. I noticed the additional cameras around, too."

"Yes. We made some compromises. If it were up to Spencer, I would have a bodyguard. I drew the line at that."

Philippa laughed. "You are joking."

"No. I'm really not. His mother was kidnapped and her caretaker murdered. You can imagine that he might be concerned what might happen to me."

"Yes, but that is really extreme, isn't it?"

Charlotte shrugged. "I don't know. Charlie actually agrees with Spencer on this topic, but I told both of them to permanently shelve that idea. I'm not having some burly guy in a suit follow me everywhere."

Philippa mouthed, "Wow." Then she said out loud, "I suppose it is understandable that he wants you safe."

"Hence the car service now. Better protection. It's an absolute pain though."

"Yes, it must be awful having someone navigate the terrible DC traffic for you whilst you nap or read in the back."

Charlotte tilted her head and looked at Philippa with surprise. "Think about the lack of privacy or freedom, Pips. You wouldn't feel silly if you had an armed driver walk you inside the building? He is required to take me door to door."

Philippa shrugged. "I don't think that sounds particularly awful, if I'm honest."

"Perhaps I am unreasonable then. I don't know. I will see you on Monday, Pips."

"Right. See you on Monday."

* * *

Spencer stroked his wife's hair and held her close to him as she sniffed miserably into his shoulder. "Friends do grow apart, my dearest, you are right. However, that does not necessarily mean that is what this is. You lived here together for several years, so there is bound to be some adjustment now."

"Yeah. That is true. I just don't understand why she said what she did. She made our relationship sound awful."

"I think Philippa is just so scarred and damaged from her previous relationship that she is too terrified to risk being vulnerable again. You and I have a marriage that follows an exceedingly conservative and unusually traditional archetype for this era. Our gender roles are strongly defined and hardly modern."

Charlotte looked up with a horrified, pained expression and said, "You think that Philippa is right?"

He pulled her gently onto his lap so he could wrap his arms completely around her, then replied seriously, "No. I do not agree with her at all. I am more than satisfied with this paradigm in our marriage. Are you?"

Charlotte tried to calm her breathing, as Spencer kissed the back of her neck in just the way he knew made her melt. Finally, she replied after a small sniffle, "I am better than satisfied. You make me happy in dozens of wonderful little ways. I love you so much."

They sat quietly together for quite some time until Charlotte's dog began pawing at Spencer's trouser leg. "It looks like Bertie is refusing the new dog door still."

"I know. I don't know why, since he used the old one for years with no trouble. I'll go and let him out."

Spencer nodded acquiescence and asked, "Do you want another cup of tea? I need some more coffee."

Charlotte managed a little smile. "Thank you. Are you hungry? I could get you some pie after I put Bertie out. It is still a while until we will have dinner with your friends."

"It's ok, I can do that. You take care of the dog."

Charlotte replied, "It won't take but a few seconds. He can let himself back in, Spencer."

Spencer sighed. "You don't have to serve me, Charlotte. It is fine. I will get your tea going."

Clearly uncomfortable, Charlotte hurried after her spaniel. Spencer frowned angrily at the table and relieved his frustration by using his foot to kick the chair back in. He gripped the back of the chair and told himself that he had to get control of himself. If things did not go well between Charlotte and JJ, he did not know what he would do. She was as close to a sister as he had and more like family than he had explained to his wife. If he was on edge then Charlotte would be quiet and nervous the whole evening.

* * *

"She adores him, Will."

Will shrugged his shoulders. "I hope so, babe, but it is hard for me to trust a Theriault. I don't know. Spencer has been through a lot. If she breaks his heart, he won't recover."

JJ leant back into her seat and drowsily replied, "I know. That's why I was paying such close attention to her. She loves Spencer and that is all that counts for me—no matter what her family name is. I watched her the whole time as she was smiling at his dorky little jokes, encouraging his various stories, and generally looking at him like she thinks he is the second coming of Brad Pitt or whoever girls like these days. Jeez, I'm getting old."

Will made the turn onto their street and said, "Ok, you are probably right about it. I didn't pay as much attention to her as to him. Spencer was so tightly wound that I was afraid he might snap."

"We were his dry run, Will. If she passed muster with me, then she will do ok with the rest of the team. That is essentially what he told me on Thursday."

"Well all of you would do your best to welcome her for Spencer's sake no matter what you thought of her, Jennifer. Imagine what it must have been like for Spencer meeting her family. Senator Theriault is famously rude and difficult, but Robert Theriault is the one that would most scare me. He is supposed to be a carbon copy of old Jacques Theriault. I don't envy Spencer his in-laws."

"I think Spence is more worried about the religion thing, but yeah. You know, no one would have thought to put us together, would they? But we've worked out all right."

Putting the SUV in park, Will smiled at his wife. "Better than all right, babe. I wouldn't trade a minute of my time with you."

JJ gave him a look that he understood perfectly well. However, she returned to their conversation, "Did you like her?"

"I don't know. I can see why he does. She's more in his class of intelligence, so she can keep up with him mentally. She is pretty in a fragile kind of way, I guess. Not my style, but I prefer my woman to be a bada**." He smiled at his wife, who rolled her eyes at him. "I guess he might like getting to be the protector for a change."

"Yeah…yeah, I thought that, too."


	13. Chapter 13

AN: I would like to thank everyone who has continued to read this story. I am especially grateful to those who have reviewed so far. Naturally, this story is not for profit and CBS owns all Criminal Minds characters.

* * *

"Alfred."

Alfred Mayhew stood up and said seriously, "Charles. My assistant said that you wanted to meet with me, but I didn't expect you so soon. What can I do for you?"

Nodding slightly at the elder senator, Charlie raised his eyebrows and gestured towards a chair.

"I'm sorry, of course, please be seated. Can I direct one of my assistants to get something for you?"

"Just coffee." Charlie settled himself in the chair and relaxed back as he watched Mayhew, who he recognised was looking distinctly uncomfortable and slightly nervous. He did not think he had him quite where he needed him, however, not yet.

As soon as he had told his aide to bring them coffee, Mayhew asked with a slight edge behind his attempt at a smile, "So what can I do for my colleague from Louisiana?"

"First, I should say that I am deeply relieved that your daughter is safe. My daughter is only five, but genuinely, Alfred, I can only imagine."

Mayhew looked startled as he replied slowly, "Thank you. She has a long road to recovery, but the important thing is that I have her back."

"That is precisely the important thing. We may sit on different sides of the aisle, but politics come second to family, Alfred."

"Again, thank you."

His expression inscrutable, Charlie continued, "Obviously, I am here for a political reason. I won't pretend otherwise, however, my motivation is family, as well."

Mayhew sat straighter in his seat and replied with a slow, "Ok."

"My sister's husband is a member of the BAU. Dr Spencer Reid."

Now very much alert, Mayhew responded, "I see. I was not aware of that."

Charlie appeared to gaze towards the window as he said distantly, "Well…it was recent." He lounged back and stuck his feet out further before he continued almost absently, "The man would not have been my first choice, but it seems my sister felt he was the _only_ choice, so I have…embraced it." His attention suddenly swinging intensely towards Mayhew, Charlie said succinctly, "This is why I will not allow the FBI to continue this persecution. From what I understand, you are in agreement."

Despite his status as a significantly senior Senator and a member of the opposing party, Mayhew knew quite well that the young man lounging so confidently in front of him wielded significant power behind the scenes. Theriault was known to be ruthless and, if necessary, quite nasty. This particular subject might be the only one on which they could agree and collaborate. It could not hurt to gain currency with someone like Theriault. "In fact, I am. It seems that EAD Linda Barnes made some significant mistakes that nearly caused my daughter's death. She is the one responsible for attempting to restructure the BAU."

Charlie nodded, but waited as a young blond assistant scurried in with two cups of coffee and then dashed out as if in terror. "Hm. Barnes will need to go apparently."

Mayhew nodded. "She is more entrenched than I originally realised. She is also not the author of the trouble, but merely the tool assigned to implement the plan."

"Mmm." Charlie sipped the scalding coffee and then said with a barely perceptible sneer, "Tools can be thrown out when they are no longer useful, Alfred. I am sure that you are on top of that." Taking another sip of coffee, Charlie shifted in his chair so he could lounge more comfortably. "To be frank, I am interested in the reason that a unit with one of the highest successful solve rates in the FBI is continually being investigated and interfered with. Why would the DOJ allow this to continue? I certainly hope that the current OPR investigation will not turn up anything unsavoury. I have always held our federal law enforcement in such high esteem."

Mayhew nodded, now pretty certain what Theriault was intending. "It would be unfortunate either to allow ourselves to be blinded by our private concerns or to have blind faith that DOJ has control over this, since they have not previously managed it."

"Agreed, Alfred. You see things as I do."

"A bipartisan committee, perhaps, would be advisable." Mayhew could see that he had said what Theriault wanted, but wondered what else the infamously manipulating and calculating young conservative Senator was planning.

"Yes. I would support that. In fact, I would back you as the chair, if you are interested in that."

Surprised, but determined not to show it, Mayhew shook his head. "That might be inadvisable, since I am so intimately involved."

Smiling predatorially like a lion who has successfully caught his prey, Charlie answered, "I disagree. You are well known to be fair and honest. I clearly have an ongoing conflict of interest, since Dr Reid is now a member of my family. However, you are simply looking for justice to be served."

"Perhaps we could both approach members on our respective sides of the aisle."

Charlie pulled his legs back in and sat forward, ostensibly so he could set his coffee in front of him. However, Mayhew could see that his colleague was making his move. "Yes. That _is_ a good idea. Have you, as yet, discovered anything useful in your private investigation, Alfred?"

Now confused again, since he was very sure that Theriault could find more out on his own than he could, Mayhew replied, "Yes, but not enough. I think that the pressure of a committee might have the desired effect."

Charlie sighed and reached into his pocket to pull out an ornately engraved flask. As he poured a small amount into the coffee in front of him, Charlie wearily stated, "I suppose that our private motivations might have slightly different end goals, but the results should be mostly the same. You want justice and to rectify whatever misguided intention at DOJ caused the Barnes debacle. I am naturally interested in the situation that has led to dismissal of AUSA Martinez and the continuing OPR investigation stemming from Dr Reid's bizarre persecution."

Mayhew raised his eyebrows. "You think that the probe should investigate the DOJ, not just the FBI."

"That is up to others to decide, but it does admittedly seem self-evident, does it not?"

"I was unaware of the OPR investigation, but if there is a possibility that these two are connected then I am deeply concerned."

Charlie gestured expansively and smiled as he replied, "Evidence of such broad, systemic disfunction in the DOJ will be difficult to find. Yet…not impossible."

"You have some information, don't you?"

"It would be unwise to implicate one of our fellow members at this time, Alfred."

Despite himself, Mayhew was shocked. With Charles-Luc Theriault anything was possible—even wilful misdirection, but if there was a genuine chance that another Senator was involved in this…Alfred Mayhew would hunt him down until the man…or woman...was publicly identified and ruined.

* * *

Surprised, Garcia asked chirpily, "Reid, what brings you to my domain?"

Spencer held out a small bag with an apologetic smile and said, "From Charlotte for you."

Her mood slowly deflating, Garcia set the bag on her desk and said only, "Oh."

"Are you still…are you angry with me, Garcia?"

Garcia sighed. "Reid, I'm not angry. I just don't understand why you didn't trust me. You know I love you, right? We all love you. We would always support you, ok?"

"I know that, Garcia and I have always trusted you. I knew that you would be supportive. I just needed privacy."

Her face clearly showing that she did not really understand, Garcia replied, "Yeah, ok. I am happy for you that you found someone, Reid. Especially someone like Charlotte. She is really pretty and it's obvious that she totally adores you. I'm glad you finally have found some happiness."

"Thank you, Garcia, I have. I'm really, really lucky to have found Charlotte. She enjoyed getting to meet you, you know."

"Thanks. She was nice." Garcia nodded and tried to smile, but Spencer could see that she was still upset.

"Should I, uh, let you get back to work? I don't want to take up your time."

Shrugging, Garcia looked over at the little bag and asked, "Is it something I can open here?"

"I don't actually know what it is. Charlotte bought it."

"Yeah? Okay. Let me look." She peeked into the bag and then said in a different voice, "Ohhhh, Reid, your wife is so nice! Look."

Spencer looked at an enormous bright orange flower made of ribbon and attached to a large barrette, which Garcia was displaying in her hand. Uncertain what he was supposed to say, he replied cautiously, "I'm glad that you like it."

"I love it. I was talking with JJ about trying to find something the right shade of tangerine to match the new dress I was wearing and Charlotte must have been paying attention…that is really sweet. Oops, I didn't see the card." Garcia set the figurine down and pulled the note from the bag in her lap.

Spencer watched as Garcia's face cycled through surprise, amusement, and then happiness. Finally, she looked up at him and considered him for a few moments, before she said, "I think you may have found a good one, Spencer Reid. I like her." Garcia waved the card in her hand as emphasis. "She's funny."

Spencer smiled and replied wryly, "I know. It surprised me at first, but she has a surprisingly dry sense of humour sometimes."

"Well I approve. You know that Rossi is going to have a dinner, right?"

With a slight frown, Spencer said flatly, "No, but I am not that surprised."

"Well…he is. It is going to be a combined celebration that our Wicked Witch, Barnes, is gone and for you and Charlotte."

Spencer nodded, although he didn't look too pleased. "It would be better if we focus on the whole team. Everyone has had a rough year."

Garcia stood up and gave Spencer a huge hug as she answered, "I get that you feel that way, Reid, but a marriage is one of those things that everyone loves to celebrate. It gives us hope, ok?"

Nodding uncomfortably, as Garcia released him from the hug, Spencer said, "I understand that. I would like everyone else to meet her."

"Well sweetie, this is the perfect opportunity then."

* * *

"Do you think that it is like this for everyone?"

Philippa frowned. "I don't really know, dear. I have never been married, have I?"

"Well no, but I thought maybe with Rhys you might have experienced something similar."

"Not really. I think that I had fairly realistic expectations, but our relationship is very different from yours, too. You and Spencer had a very old-fashioned sort of courtship and neither of you have very much romantic experience."

"None, really, and absolutely none physically."

"I know you haven't, dear, but surely your devoted boffin had a shag or two in his lifetime before he met you. Hasn't he been able to sort everything to satisfaction? He has clearly been gagging for it since the day you two met."

"I didn't mean _that_ , and I didn't mean anything was wrong because it isn't. Spencer is wonderful. Things are just confusing and even a bit overwhelming, you know? I called Therese, but she said that it was no different for her and Lazare."

"Ok, now I have to admit that I'm not quite sure what you are talking about. Are you upset about something Spencer has done or, perhaps, not done?"

"No. No. He has been perfectly wonderful. He really is an incredible man. I worry so much, that's all; _literally_ all the time. I worry that I might not do things right to make him happy. That is especially because I know that he is so sweet that he would go along with anything to make me happy. Even though I don't want him to have to do that, Pips. Spencer should just be able to be Spencer and not change a thing."

Philippa nodded. "I know, dear."

As if she had not even heard Philippa's reply, Charlotte continued with increasing agitation, "I worry that since I have no idea what I'm doing with certain…things _,_ in addition to being totally embarrassed and uncomfortable, well, that…well, I worry that he won't be…pleased. I just…ugh, I can't explain that part, Pips, because…you know. Anyway, I just can't get a handle on the overwhelming fear that something will happen to him, that he is unsatisfied, or that I can't make him as happy as he deserves. He has never, ever done _anything_ to give me reason to have so much worry and fear. What is wrong with me, Pips?"

Philippa placed her arm around her friend and said seriously, "It sounds like you are experiencing severe anxiety, Charlotte. No matter what your sister said, it is definitely not normal. This type of anxiety will hurt both you and Spencer because you will react out of fear and hurt him. We really need to find you a counsellor so you can work through this."

Charlotte sighed with relief. "I am so glad you think that, because this can't be normal, right? I've always been a nervous person, but this seems crazy. That was why I called Therese. She said that when she and Lazare were first married she cried herself to sleep so many times, since she was afraid he would stop loving her one day."

Philippa frowned. "That is so sad, Charlotte. She didn't truly believe that is normal, did she?"

"Honestly, she seemed to think so. Apparently, Lazare proved himself to her through patiently waiting through her anxieties. She really does love him, you know."

"But why should he need to prove himself?"

"I don't know. Those were her words, not mine. As far as I know, Lazare has always been totally devoted to Therese."

"Are you expecting Spencer to do something to fix your anxiety?"

"No. It is not his fault; it is mine. Spencer has been perfect. He is so sweet and he does so many precious, thoughtful things for me."

"Perhaps you got married too quickly."

"No, I am sure that is not it, Pips. It did go faster than either of us had planned, since we needed to take care of his mother. It was the right time though—he has said so and I feel the same. I am so lucky to be married to him. I look at Spencer and I feel like I'm just going to burst with joy. But sometimes I have a sudden wave of anxiety swoop in for no real reason. It doesn't make sense."

"Wow. Seriously, darling, this is not good or normal. You must see your doctor and find a 3counsellor. In that order."

"Do you think I'm losing my mind? It feels like it."

"No, but I do think that you are having an overwhelming attack of anxiety. If you do not get control over this soon, then you will really damage your marriage and perhaps irrevocably. You know that after I found the courage to leave Clive, I went through a long bout of depression coupled with nearly crippling anxiety. It took counselling and medication to help me take back control."

"Should I be taking medication?"

"That is what your physician must determine, not me."

"Ok. Ok." Charlotte stared down at her hands for a few moments and fiddling with her engagement ring as she appeared to be attempting to make a decision. Finally, she lifted her head and reached to pick up her phone from the table. "Let me go and call Dr Whitehall now. I can't risk hurting Spencer and I'm sure that if I have not worried him horribly already that I will soon."

Philippa regarded her friend's petite face that was normally alight with humour and vitality, but which was now nearly grey with worry. She wondered if Charlotte really imagined that Spencer would not already be concerned about her as well as their marriage.


	14. Chapter 14

"Good?"

"You have no idea. This might be the best pie that I have ever eaten."

Charlotte's eyes glowed with pleasure. "That is May's recipe. She was our housekeeper when I was a girl and no one was a better cook. When Therese got married, May gave her a little booklet of her most requested recipes."

"And Therese gave that to you?"

"Mmhm, that was the little flat envelope that she handed me as we were leaving. Therese made a copy for her housekeeper, so I could have May's original booklet. Therese was really close to May, so that is a pretty special gift really."

Spencer smiled with understanding. "It is. Thank you for making this for me."

Taking a deep breath, as if to draw the courage to speak, Charlotte said quietly, "I want to talk to you about something, is that ok?"

His eyes flashing with fear, Spencer replied with an exceedingly calm voice, "Of course, Charlotte."

"I have been a mess these last two months. You have been too kind and sweet to mention it, but I know you have been aware of it. My mind has been filled with anxiety."

He took a very deep breath and then slowly let it out, as he watched her for a moment. Finally, he replied simply, "I know."

"So, I went to see Dr Whitehall this morning. He believes that I have Generalised Anxiety Disorder. We talked about my history and I have come to realise that he might be right. He has put me on an SSRI for the long-term and given me an anxiolytic for the short-term: escitalopram and diazepam to be specific. I am supposed to see a psychiatrist in three weeks. My doctor knows her and he was concerned enough to call directly to get me in as soon as possible. Dr Whitehall also thinks that you and I might want to see a psychologist together for counselling."

Spencer frowned and pushed back the anger that rose to the surface, so he could reply as calmly as possible. "Why didn't you discuss this with me, Charlotte? I would have gone with you. You did not need to do this alone."

"I know, Spencer, however felt like I needed to go alone. I was worried that I was losing my mind quite literally. I was too scared to tell you."

His face clearly showing his unhappiness, Spencer said flatly, "I am sorry that I have made you feel that you could not come to me with this before now, Charlotte."

"Darling Spencer, no, that isn't it. It is not your fault." Charlotte held his hand in hers and lifted it to her chest where she clutched it lovingly. "In fact, nearly every bit of my anxiety has been centred on my fear that I am doing everything wrong all the time. You deserve perfection and I am not perfect. I spend so much time terrified that I can't please you, that I am not able to do what I should to make you happy."

In a voice thick with emotion, Spencer replied firmly, "Let me stop you there, Charlotte. That is not true. You have made me very happy."

Charlotte brought his hand up to her cheek and moved closer to him. "You have been worried, Spencer. I could see it and I've been too panicked to say anything. I recognise the absurdity of that statement, but my mind can be totally ridiculous like that."

"You know that I am more than familiar with anxiety, dearest one."

Nodding in recognition of his admission, Charlotte softly answered, "I know. I do know that. But when one is drowning in panic, there is very little logic available. However, I now realise that is exactly what has been happening. I want to talk to you about this and work with you on our relationship."

Surprised, Spencer replied with obvious relief, "I am glad to hear that. Did your doctor have a particular psychologist in mind for counselling?"

"Yes, Dr Wenhauser, but I called and she won't do couples. The psychiatrist is not a counsellor, so she will only make a final diagnosis and control my medications."

"If I am absolutely honest, it would be beneficial for each of us to be seen individually, as well as together. Did Dr Wenhauser have any suggestions?"

"No, but I got another name from Rhys. I don't know if you will like it, but Samuel Meyer…"

Spencer's jaws clenched and he replied with force, "No."

"Ok. Rhys heavily recommended Meyer, but gave me another name, too. Andrea Balthasar-Verhaegen."

"I know of Balthasar-Verhaegen, but I have never interacted with her. If Rhys recommends her, then I am willing to see if she will work with us."

Charlotte nodded and looked nervously at Spencer, as she replied, "I was hoping that you would say that. I made an appointment with her, since I thought you would say no to Dr Meyer."

"I will never again willingly interact with Sam Meyer."

"Ok, I understand, Spencer." Charlotte's worried expression deepened as she saw Spencer's eyes narrow.

"Do you? That is something at least. Well then, when is our appointment?"

"This Friday."

Spencer saw that Charlotte's eyes were filled with tears. He wrapped one arm around her waist to pull her down into his lap. "I am sorry that I spoke so harshly. I have never told you the full story about Meyer, so you would not know why I hold so much scorn for him. I am glad that you have made the appointment already. Also, I am very pleased that you are taking your doctor's advice so seriously and acting on it immediately."

Charlotte turned and pressed her face into his shoulder, then began to sob with near complete abandon. Full of concern and distress that he might have caused her unhappiness, Spencer began stroking her hair slowly as he placed light kisses on the crown of her head. He allowed her to cry for quite some time, but finally whispered, "Darling one, please tell me what is wrong? Why are you crying?"

"I love you. I've been doing everything wrong."

"You most certainly have not. Here, look at me now." As soon as she lifted her head and looked at him through the curtain of her long hair, Spencer took his napkin and blotted her face. "Why would you believe that, my dearest?"

"We should be happy. I am happy until suddenly I'm terrified that something horrible will happen. An unsub might shoot you."

Spencer cleared his throat and replied, "Already happened. I'm still here."

"But you might not survive it next time."

"True, but none of us knows what might happen. I can only deal with what is happening right now."

Charlotte sniffed and wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. "Yes, but I can't think that way. Well, I used to think that way a bit more, but now I have you and you are so shockingly wonderful and mind-blowingly amazing that I cannot seem to think straight."

Spencer blinked and started to say something, but then stopped to look at Charlotte. After another moment of hesitation, he said, "Thank you, my dearest. I do understand, actually, since I have felt like that every day since we met. I have had to work very hard on myself to find a way to remain functional. I am not always successful, however."

"I've made your life so difficult. I'm so sorry." Charlotte tucked her face back into his shoulder, sighed, then continued, "I promise that I want to make you the happiest man. You deserve to feel cherished and adored, which you are. You really are, Spencer."

Spencer squeezed his arms around her tightly and then released her, so he could place his hand along her cheek. "My dearest Charlotte, please look at me?"

Charlotte complied, but he could see that she was still beside herself with self-doubt.

"You have not made my life difficult. My life has always been difficult. I have known nothing else. What you have done is make my life richer, more beautiful, more hopeful, and more joyous."

Charlotte threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with such passion that Spencer felt himself beginning to lose control. Fortunately, she pulled away just as he seriously wondered how much longer he would be able to stop himself from swooping her up in his arms and demonstrating the depth of his madness regarding her. It was not the time for that. He needed control, which was particularly thin on the ground at that moment.

Nearly whispering, Charlotte asked, "Can I help you? I mean, is there something that I can do that will help make things less difficult for you? I would do it, whatever it is."

Spencer shook his head. "You do help. The loneliness of my life before was often soul-destroyingly oppressive. I had very little hope. That has changed irrevocably now."

Charlotte reached up and ran her fingers through his hair as she said, "I am glad. However, I think that there are probably things that would help you that I might do for you. Or perhaps, there are things that I might learn not to do that would make things easier for you."

"We will both learn what each other needs as we progress forwards together, darling one. That is how the first year or two of marriage naturally should be."

"Yes, I know, but I am trying to say that I want to know when I do something dumb or hurt your feelings. Please. Don't worry about my feelings. I might be a bit hurt in the moment, but it does not matter in the long run if it helps you."

Quite surprised, Spencer turned so he could kiss the palm of her hand, which was still caught up in his long, floppy hair. "Are you feeling any better, dearest one?"

"A bit. I need to take my next pill. My doctor wants me to take 10 mg of diazepam tonight."

"Have you taken any yet?"

"Yes, I took 5 mg earlier. It made me pretty sleepy. I think 10 mg is going to knock me out."

"Then let's take you upstairs, so you can take it and lie down."

"I ought to clean up here first, so Yesenia doesn't have all this waiting in the morning. Why don't you tell me about the party to which Mr Rossi has invited us?"

Spencer picked up his dessert plate and coffee cup and carried them out of the breakfast room towards the kitchen as he said, "Dave would not like being called Mr Rossi, Charlotte. He is not comfortable with formality of that type. Just call him Dave."

"Well that does not come naturally to me, especially since he is rather like your uncle."

Spencer snorted with amusement. "I suppose he is in a way, but you cannot call him that either."

"I should say not, since he is your colleague. Mr Rossi or Mr Dave. Sorry dear, but that is how it is. There are a few things that the Universal Southern Regulation and Code does not allow me to do and that not even the apocalypse will change."

Laughing again, Spencer replied, "Some enterprising Southerner needs to actually create a Universal Southern Regulation and Code, write it down, and publish it for all the clueless men and women who have married a Southerner and have no idea what is going on half the time."

"You know, I bet someone already has. Would you believe that Philippa actually believed me that there was such a thing as the USRC? I led her on for nearly a year until she figured it out. Poor darling. When I finally explained that Southern-ness is much more complex than anything that could be codified—ranging from barely Southern up in Virginia to deep South in Alabama and, of course, the cultured perfection of we Cajun Southerners—well, she got so frustrated she wouldn't talk to me for days. As if the English could all be explained by one single culture."

Spencer leant against the kitchen counter and looked with an expression of intense joy at his wife. "An entire year? Truly?"

"Yes. It was immense fun. I forget all of them now, but I had whole made-up codes and regulations that I would quote. Like…section 14b: Southern families shall declare a moratorium on any discussion of appropriate style stuffing/dressing for turkey/duck/goose at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Offenders, especially those who declare that cornbread is wholly unacceptable for use in said stuffing/dressing, will be assessed a fine up to $500 or assigned solitary after dinner clean-up."

"Cornbread stuffing is your family's norm?"

"Well, no, actually. My father apparently came from a white bread, sausage, hot peppers, and pecans family. The Landrys were all cornbread, andouille, crab meat, and sweet peppers people. Therefore, we always have both styles."

Spencer laughed. "You are wonderful, do you know that? Don't worry. You can have any kind of stuffing or dressing that you want. I don't care."

"Well you don't like seafood, so I won't do crab meat. I wonder what else could be substituted?"

"There is no need to worry, Charlotte. I can always eat the white bread version."

"Oh! You mean that you would really want to go home to Louisiana with me? That would mean dealing with Bobby and the rest of my family. I assumed we would stay here."

"We can go there or stay here. Whatever pleases you is what I would want to do."

"Perhaps not this year. Things ended rather badly with Bobby at the wedding, remember? Also, Billy always comes to Thanksgiving and I promise you that it will get _really_ ugly when I see Billy next after what he has done. He said some things to me about you that I have not forgotten. I won't soon forgive him not coming to our wedding either."

Spencer put his hand on his wife's shoulder. "Charlotte, I do not want you to battle your family over me. We are married and nothing that they say will make me want to leave. Nothing."

"But they said horrible things, Spencer. Billy was awful and he was wrong!"

First kissing her lips very lightly, Spencer then projected a calmness that he did not really feel, as he said, "Dearest one, they had honest concerns, so I can forgive what was said. It seems to me that it would be better to move forward and try to build a better relationship with each of them. Your family is very important to you."

"So are you. I would choose you, Spencer."

Spencer caught his breath and said unsteadily, "I don't want that. Thom and Bobby do not like me; however, they will probably accept my presence when we visit. I don't think that would work with Billy, but if Bobby accepts me then Billy might remain silent. I will do what I can to get along with Charlie and Alastair, who both seem to tolerate our relationship well. Therese seems to have accepted me as long as I agree to do what she wants."

"Oh golly, what does she want you to do?"

"Tell her how you are doing whenever she asks. Watch over you, take care of you, protect you, and all the things that I would do anyway. She has particular ideas about how you ought to be treated."

Charlotte rolled her eyes and asked with annoyance, "Babied, you mean?"

"No, not at all. Therese is much fonder of you than you realise, Charlotte. I think, although I might be wrong, that she might actually be responsible for a lot of what Bobby does for you."

"Well she can certainly make Bobby or anyone else in our family do what she wants. I'm just surprised that you think she would."

He shook his head and said seriously, "She has very strong ideas about what you deserve. In general, I agree with her, except that I don't think that you should be kept out of the decision-making process."

"I love you, Spencer. Thank you for being so generous about my crazy family. They are intense and quite overwhelming even for me."

Spencer's eyes travelled upward in the direction of the room where his mother was being cared for by a team of nurses that he could only now afford because of Charlotte's immense wealth. "Family can be agonisingly difficult at times, but it is worth the trouble. I know that a honeymoon spent here with my mother down the hall cannot have been your girlhood dream."

She scoffed and said with a shrug of her shoulders, "My girlhood dream was marrying a prince and living in a castle. However, when I think of all the qualities that this prince had…he was pretty boring. None of my anodyne fantasies ever have compared to you, Spencer. We will have plenty of time in the future if we want to take trips elsewhere. We have so little time now to spend with your mother. Why would we waste it?"

Clearly on edge, Spencer retorted, "Because we only have one honeymoon trip, Charlotte."

"Well we had three days with the coastal house all to ourselves before we returned here. They were better than any daydreams I ever had, so I don't feel cheated."

"I know that I should done more for you, Charlotte. You deserve more."

"Spencer, don't say that. I just wanted time with you. It could have been a shack in the Appalachias. I didn't want to do anything other than be with you."

Smiling with deep satisfaction, Spencer pulled his wife to him and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

* * *

"But the dinner is on a Wednesday. I can get a friend to go with me. It's ok."

Spencer was quite unsuccessful at hiding both his annoyance and a flash of jealousy. "I am quite capable of going, Charlotte."

"But Wednesday is…"

"I can miss one week. It has been 11 years, Charlotte. One week will not break me."

Charlotte reached out a hand to touch Spencer's arm. "I didn't mean that it would! Yet, you told me that your Wednesday night meeting was inviolable. I thought that meant even for something like this."

Spencer gruffly replied, "I have missed meetings when we travel for cases and my attendance has varied over the years depending on my need. Since I got out of prison, I have attended strictly."

Charlotte bit her lip nervously. "I'm sorry, Spencer. Obviously, I would prefer if you came with me. It just isn't important enough to interfere with your sobriety."

"My sobriety is not at risk, Charlotte. I am fine. You may not be aware of this, but your brother has been working with Senator Mayhew behind the scenes. He has informed me that he expects us to be present at this dinner together."

Shocked, Charlotte stammered, "He-he has been working on what happened to you?"

Shaking his head as he watched Charlotte closely, Spencer answered, "More specifically what has been happening across the DOJ, from the AUSAs under investigation to the BOP and the FBI."

Incensed, Charlotte spluttered, "But-but..why would he do that now? When I begged him to interfere, Charlie said he was not going to get involved more than a simple inquiry. He said he couldn't risk the appearance of a conflict of interest."

Spencer stroked his fingers along Charlotte's arm in the way he knew would get her attention fully on him, "Well, in my opinion, this is a political opportunity for him. It is not personal. Things changed when Mayhew's daughter became involved."

"Oh, I remember seeing that on the news. You had something to do with solving that? You never told me."

Spencer leant back into his chair and replied uncomfortably, "It was the sort of case that upsets you, Charlotte. I did tell you about it in a way, but without the details. That was the case that we investigated off the books."

"Oh! Oh, I see. What incredible luck that the one case that horrible woman tried to use to sink y'all was one that got a Senator on your side, who would actually do something overtly about her."

"Yes, it was. Almost unbelievably good luck on our part, although horrible luck for Jessica Mayhew."

Stricken with remorse that he might think she had forgotten the plight of the victim, Charlotte awkwardly asked, "Did she..was she ok?"

"She is alive and her father has put her in another intensive rehab programme. Perhaps she might succeed this time. I don't know."

Charlotte clutched her hands in her lap and stared up at Spencer, who was now leaning against the wall in front of her. "Are you happy at work, Spencer? I know you are glad to be back at the BAU, but you said you were enjoying the idea of teaching. You are going to do the seminar again in two weeks. Are you satisfied how thing are?"

"I do enjoy teaching and I would like do to do more. I have considered Georgetown's request to have me teach an evening course. I do not know how that would work with our travel schedule, however, so I will probably turn them down as I have before."

"I know that you have a relationship with Georgetown already, but have you heard from Catholic University again? I told Dr Weisbaum that if and where you taught was your business and not mine, so he would need to try contacting you directly. After the huge response to your lecture for Rhys' class, I think he would happily find a way to work around the BAU schedule. One of Pips' colleagues used their distance learning setup while she was recuperating at home from an emergency c-section. It is not a course well aligned with typical distance learning at all, but they got creative and made it quite successful. Apparently the students really liked it. Perhaps something similar could be organised ahead of time for the weeks you are unexpectedly travelling."

Spencer shrugged. "Georgetown suggested the same thing. I do not want to tape a lecture or assign a project that I cannot guide in person."

Really annoyed, Charlotte said seriously, "Spencer, I think that you missed my point."

"That although CUA is not as prestigious as Georgetown they would work more with me?"

Charlotte stood up. "Wow. Ok, no, that was not my point. Never mind, Spencer."

Taking her too literally, Spencer changed the subject and asked, "Are you unhappy that you are not working at a university with a higher ranked program?"

Charlotte bit her lip and laughed with exasperation at her husband's social cluelessness. "Sometimes, yes, but I am not at Catholic University because I did not have any other options. My family did not want to hear how prestigious Chicago was or who I would be working with if I accepted their offer. They gave me permission to get my second PhD there only because Aunt Josephine was willing to live with me."

Scandalised, Spencer demanded, "You had to turn down an offer to the University of Chicago for the Catholic University of America?"

"Yes. Bobby doesn't really understand academia, Spencer. He gave me two choices: LSU or somewhere in DC, since I could live with Alastair in Baton Rouge or Charlie in DC. LSU was not hiring anyone, so that was not an option. I despised the total misogynist with whom I met at Georgetown, which as a university is Catholic in name only. Catholic University had what I needed, so I came here. They have been good to me, so it has been fine."

"I'm sorry, Charlotte. Do you want to move? I cannot believe that you could not go elsewhere. Your degrees are all top notch, you are more intelligent than all of them, you have published at an extraordinary rate for your field, and your students consistently rate you as exemplary."

Charlotte blushed slightly as she asked, "How do you even know that, Spencer?"

"Dearest one, you have your teaching awards on a shelf in your office."

Charlotte laughed. "Hidden behind a dozen other things. You are ridiculously observant, Spencer. Thank you, but I don't want to move now. Washington works for both of us."

Spencer shook his head. "If you need to be elsewhere for your career, Charlotte, then we will move. I can work elsewhere in the FBI or do something else."

"I don't think so, you know? I was blind with fury when Bobby refused to allow me to take the offer at Chicago. It was months before I could look at him and be pleasant to him. However, the University of Chicago is a very stressful environment in which to work. I don't know if I would have thrived there, since I do not respond well to antagonism. The department is not encouraging of conservative religion either and my whole work is infused with my faith. I loved studying there, but I'm not sure that it would have been a good fit for a career. Does that make sense?"

"It does. I don't stay at the BAU only because of the ability to do the work. The people are my family now. That matters just as much as the work."

Charlotte nodded in comprehension, but leant forward as if determined to explain, "Well my department isn't really a family like the BAU, but I feel genuinely supported there, which is pretty rare. Well, except for Davis, since he contends that anyone who can believe in G-d is so lacking in intelligence and reason that they should not be allowed to gain tenure. He's had public dustups with McNelty, Abrahams, and Bin Abdulwahid, but the department has not really done anything about him yet."

"I am surprised he would choose to study languages that are only used in Jewish or Christian religious textual analysis."

"He grew up in the Orthodox community, Spencer. He only lost his faith after he had already begun his career. It must be awful for him to feel stuck studying things he no longer believes. No wonder he is so angry all the time."

Spencer's face expressed understanding and he asked, "Does Davis give you a very difficult time?"

"Yes, he does. He is pretty nasty at times and he has made things harder with a few of my colleagues by implying that my family has helped my career. That is the kind of thing where denying just makes me look guiltier. I cannot do much about it except keep working hard."

"But that isn't right, Charlotte. He can't treat you that way. "

"Unfortunately, he can and does. It is very far from the first or last time that someone will accuse me of riding my family's coat tails. I have gotten much more privilege from my family then hardship, so I can't really complain, Spencer."


	15. Chapter 15

Charlotte budged a bit closer, squeezed the hand that Spencer had interlaced with her own, and smiled brightly up at her husband. "You have seemed happy these last few weeks. You really like teaching at Marbury, don't you?"

His entire body stiffened, as Spencer replied guardedly, "I do, yes. I don't know what the FBI had in mind when they implemented my 'stipulation', but since they didn't want me to teach another seminar yet, this sabbatical was a good compromise."

"I don't see why they had to be so difficult about giving you permission to teach a course during your forced time off. If they don't need you at Quantico, then what is the problem?"

Spencer gently disentangled himself from her, as he responded flatly, "As I have explained before, Charlotte, it is politics. You know as well as I do how that works."

She was aware that she had really upset him, however, Charlotte was puzzled as to why he was quite this angry. Therefore, she kept her tone neutral, as she attempted to divert the conversation away from Marbury or anything having to do with Spencer's forced sabbatical. "I do, yes. I am very lucky that my department is so supportive of me, however, Pips has had a horrible time in her department. Academia can be an unforgiving environment sometimes."

Spencer made a noise that indicated understanding, but his expression was too weirdly blank to be natural.

"What are you thinking, Spencer?"

He crossed his arms loosely across his chest and pushed himself back into the cushions of the sofa. "I have always wondered if I could have survived in academia. Most people seem to feel that is my natural environment. Yet, at times, well most of time actually, I have felt that I would have failed terribly."

Charlotte turned so that she was facing him and schooled her expression carefully. "I think you would do wonderfully, Spencer. Despite working enormously long hours at the FBI, you have continued to write papers and pursue further degrees. I suspect that if you were a full time academic, your research would be even more extraordinary given your incredible mental plasticity and creativity. If you had even more time to spend on your areas of interest, you would make further unique connexions and draw more fascinating conclusions."

"Thank you, dearest one, but I think that the personal side of things would always have been too great a hurdle for me." Spencer gestured slightly with one hand before he crossed his arms again more tightly. "It takes a long time before I trust people and nearly as long before they understand me. I think I might have been tolerated academia for my research, but I would have been miserable with the interpersonal side of things. I often find it difficult to work well with others and I do not make friends easily. Almost never, actually."

"I imagine that what your colleagues think of you is very different from what you believe they do. Although you might be privately uncomfortable, you always want to put those around you at ease, Spencer. You are kind and very likable. Additionally, they respect your skill immensely. Why would things be any different in a university setting?"

Spencer's voice deepened as he replied with suddenly transparent anger. "How I act with you is not the same as my professional demeanour. You have never seen that side of me. If I had not instantly fallen hopelessly in love with you, then I would not have pushed myself to completely ignore my natural boundaries and instincts, Charlotte. I was off kilter and out of balance from the moment you walked away from the café that first day."

Stunned, as she was uncertain why he was so angry, Charlotte murmured, "Oh."

As if she had not even spoken, Spencer continued, "Then I was desperate enough to ask for advice from several co-workers—even Rossi once. I bought an iPhone—despite despising smartphones—since I needed to see you in pictures or on FaceTime. I read over all those books on Catholicism and actually tried to find a path to faith, though I failed at that unfortunately. I sold off all of my retirement investments just to buy you a ring that was worthy of you. I have given you every part of me that is worth having."

She had wondered how Spencer had afforded her engagement ring, which should have been wholly outside of the financial reach of someone on an FBI salary. Finances were such an awkward topic for them, that they mostly pretended that nothing had changed financially for either of them. Charlotte replied in a voice just barely above a whisper, "All of you is worth having, Spencer."

"Charlotte, I let you so far into my world that my private universe was permanently ripped open, so I could fit you inside. I haven't even processed what that means, since it…you…have become everything and I can't think past you. After prison and now you, I don't know for sure who Spencer Reid currently is."

Charlotte did not respond for a moment, but finally she stood up and said shakily, "After prison and…and now me…wow. That is wondrously clear, Spencer. Thank you for letting me know the truth."

Spencer gasped as he heard her and stood up unsteadily as he stammered, "N-n-no. No. That was not what I meant! Charlotte. Wait!"

Yet Charlotte turned and walked quietly from the room before he finished speaking. As soon as she was in the corridor outside the library, she slumped against the wall and began to cry silently with her eyes closed and hands gripping each other tightly. When she heard Spencer move beside her, Charlotte turned away and gestured for him to leave her alone. Since he did not move, she turned her body away and twitched his hand off when he placed it on her shoulder.

His voice was full of anguish as Spencer insisted, "I really did not mean what that sounded like. I know that is how I said it, but I meant something quite different, Charlotte."

"Did you really though?" Charlotte wiped her face with the back of her hand. "You said that your private universe is permanently torn. That is quite a picturesque description of the unpleasant effect I have had on you. I have so wanted to make you happy, but apparently I have only destroyed your life."

"You have not. I promise it, Charlotte. In truth, you saved me. You really don't know how empty everything was when I met you. After my time in prison, I thought that all I wanted was to get back to work and for my life to be like before. Yet that couldn't happen, since I wasn't that man any longer. The loneliness had always hurt, but then it became unbearable. My life was narrowing to a close before I met you. Do you understand?"

Charlotte slid down into an incidental chair that stood in the middle of the corridor by a console table with an enormous floral arrangement, against which Spencer was leaning. "To a close? What do you mean by that, Spencer?"

"I mean exactly what it sounds like. I either needed to find a new way to exist or I was going to give up fighting."

Charlotte's eyes widened in horror. "Spencer! No, no you wouldn't do that."

His voice strangely flat, Spencer answered with mortified honesty, "Give up? I think, yes, actually. Whenever the next big unpleasant thing happened at work, since it is nearly always through work that anything happens to me anyway, I don't know if I would have bothered to fight. I didn't have any hope left."

"Oh. I thought you were saying you would…ok, so, you meant using Dilaudid again?"

Spencer did not answer, but shrugged his shoulders in such a way that Charlotte understood that she was right.

"You really would have given in?"

"I hope not, but I can't say for sure now. The shock of discovering how different I was after prison was almost unbearable. I feared that Cat Adams was right. If she was, then it hardly mattered what I did."

Charlotte stared up at Spencer with a sudden burst of fury. "That is pretty darned pathetic reasoning Spencer. You are too intelligent to allow yourself to get away with such poor logic."

His own anger racing forth, Spencer snarled, "I'm not a purely logical being, you know. There are many who believe that is all I am, but I am almost the opposite."

"I know, Spencer."

His eyes still narrowed, as he carefully watched his wife, Spencer half-growled, "No matter how 'brilliant' my mind is, I had to truly study about both normal and pathological behaviour, learn to read microexpressions, and memorise hundreds of speech patterns just to be able to understand social things how normal people do. None of that comes naturally."

"Yes, I know."

"I know that you know, Charlotte, but I'm still an imbecile at normal social interaction." He peered down at his wife, trying to judge her feelings, but his emotional state was beyond control. "I am sorry. I just don't know what I'm doing. I don't know why you are here with me."

"Yes, you do. You don't have to profile me to understand this, Spencer. You watched me suffering through the anxiety attacks as I panicked about our marriage. You know exactly why I am here and what I want."

Spencer rubbed his hands back and forth across his face, as if trying to wake himself up, and replied finally, "Ok."

"Are you talking to Dr Balthasar-Verhaegen about how you were feeling before we met?"

"Yes. She is pretty ruthless about not letting me avoid anything. She is unlike any therapist that I have ever been to before."

Charlotte asked seriously, "Have you ever voluntarily gone to therapy before now?"

"No."

"That is probably just as important a difference, too, don't you think?"

"Charlotte, are you sure?"

Aware of what he meant, despite the sudden, silent change of subject, Charlotte sighed with both annoyance and understanding. "Very. Very sure. You will be a perfectly wonderful father, Spencer. I want to keep trying. It will happen."

"Ok. I do too. I want to believe that I can be a better father than my own was."

Charlotte patted the head of her little dog, which had finally found where she had gone when leaving the library. Then she stood up and replied, "Spencer, I cannot imagine anyone who would be a better father than you. You would be kind and affectionate, completely generous of your time, understanding of all their sweet, childish thoughts, willing to spend hours on projects or help with homework…oh all the things that you and I never had with our fathers but wished we did. Why would you doubt that?"

"I just confessed to you that I was very, very close to falling back into addiction when we met. Do you need another reason?"

"Apparently you don't. Well, I cannot change you, Spencer. You must do that. Conversely, you cannot change me. So you probably ought to stop trying to convince me that I should not be so ridiculously in love with you. I just am and I will always be in love with you. All your complexities and foibles are just a part of the man that I find so exciting and fascinating. Accept it."

* * *

Two weeks. Two weeks. When was the last time that he had spent so long away on one case? They were supposed to research, liaise with the LEOs, build a profile, and, if appropriate, help take down the unsub. They were not meant to stay as long-term visitors and it was straining the entire team's morale. The locals were weirdly unwelcoming, the unsub's behaviour seemed strangely inexplicable, the missing children were all painfully young, and they still had no real workable profile. Spencer could not understand why things were going so poorly either. They _ought_ to have resolved this. Something just wasn't right. He wouldn't blame the director if they were replaced with another team. They were already under review—again—over the Believer cult case, despite its quick resolution.

Pushing both cases from his mind temporarily, Spencer started pacing the floor of his hotel room and wondering whether he was making the right choice for his mother. He knew that Charlotte was completely comfortable with them spending the money for all the nursing staff. He knew that she would support any decision he made about his mother—no matter how costly. Meanwhile, Mom had constant, good quality care. However, was sitting in one room all day surrounded by nurses better than a more social environment in an Alzheimer's care facility? Perhaps Mom was really past the point of being able to benefit from a social environment. She rarely spoke anymore. He knew that she did not recognise him. She seemed to remember him as a child, based on the way that she clutched his baby picture at night. However, perhaps she just vaguely recognised the little boy in the picture without real awareness of who he was. What little had remained of the amazing woman he had known for 37 years was essentially gone.

Gone…was it possible that the unsub was…no. He had already considered and rejected that theory on the fourth day. He had to believe that something was wrong about the information that they had been given. It felt off somehow. Even worse was the strange behaviour of some of the local police. There were parts of the country that were always hostile to the FBI, but not Michigan. Not usually.

Spencer flopped onto the chair next to the hotel window and tried to quieten his mind. Two weeks apart from Charlotte was straining his mental discipline beyond safe boundaries. He had to wonder if he would be able to continue travelling with the BAU for the rest of his career. Was it likely that he would become more used to the nights away from her? If they had a child, which they were trying very hard to make happen, could he handle days away from his own son or daughter? He did not want to be an absent father. He had respected Hotch immensely, but Hotch had allowed this job to destroy his marriage and get in the way of parenting Jack. Spencer had hated that Hotch had needed to go, however, leaving for Jack's sake was absolutely the right decision. Perhaps he would also need to leave the BAU, if he and Charlotte were ever able to have their own children.

Perhaps. If. The doctor had not been encouraging. Charlotte's agony at the news had still not settled and, he felt, would never truly do so if they could not have a child. Her devout Catholicism meant that the majority of the fertility treatments such as IVF were forbidden to them. He would not soon mention adoption again to her. That had been foolish on his part. He ought to have known it was too soon to bring that up. JJ had essentially informed him that he was a complete jerk for offering that as consolation. However, Charlotte's reaction had told him that already. She desperately needed to have her own child and little else would satiate that baby-sized chasm in her life.

Spencer stood up again and walked over to his phone. She would not be asleep yet. He could call again.

* * *

"OK, man, I saw that flashy Bond car you were driving the other morning. Don't pretend you are getting off without buying a round tonight, ok?"

Spencer blanched and muttered something affirmative as he got up and wandered towards the bar.

Rossi turned towards Alvez and fixed him with an intense look. "Alvez, you may not understand this, but the acquisition of money is not always a comfortable subject. It takes time to get used to being the one in a group with deep pockets. Whereas I enjoy splashing my wealth around, I can only imagine that for a deeply private person like Reid, he is simply uncomfortable with us even knowing that his financial status has changed."

Alvez held his hands up in mock surrender. "I was just teasing the guy, Rossi. I didn't mean anything by it. If he's so concerned about keeping his wife's money under the radar then why was he driving an Aston Martin Vantage? Not exactly stealthy."

JJ leant forward and said sharply, "Seriously Luke? Obviously, it is Charlotte's car. Spencer drives like an old woman. Whenever he replaces that old death trap he usually drives, it won't be with something like that."

A few seconds later, Spencer placed glassed in front of Tara and JJ, before looking at Rossi and Alvez. "The rest are coming."

Rossi held up his glass, which was not yet empty. "Grazie. No rush."

Spencer settled back into his chair, but his eyes swept the room. Both Tara and JJ saw that Spencer was keeping an eye out for Prentiss and Simmons, who were supposed to join them after stopping by the hotel.

JJ stared down at her glass and sighed. "The unsub's wife and daughter today…it breaks my heart that they will be victims, too, since everyone is going to blame them. However, the wife's shock…I don't know, it made me wonder. I guess I'm just blaming her, too."

Tara replied, "Families of criminals are often unrecognised victims. However, I understand what you mean. It will never cease to amaze me that people can live in the same home as a psychopath and not be aware. Or at least claim not to be aware. Yet, it happens depressingly often."

Spencer nodded towards Tara in recognition of her comment, but it was a moment before he replied, "I think often they are not aware how a psychopath actually presents in a normal environment."

JJ commented, "Hmm, they probably expect psychopaths to all be like Jeffrey Dahmer or to foam at the mouth."

Alvez commented dryly, "What, they don't all foam at the mouth?"

After a contemplative sip of his scotch, Rossi stated, "Well, no one wants to admit that a relative is psychologically abnormal or a criminal. It is not the kind of thing that nice families have. My Nonna never would admit that my Great-uncle Sal went to jail for stealing a chicken even though he loved to tell the story—embellishing it differently each time, of course."

Tara asked suspiciously, "A chicken?"

"It was Italy during the first World War and they were starving. From what I understand, he was lucky not to be hanged. It was a different time."

Spencer commented, "I think that in some families, abnormal psychology is normalised because they are simply used to it. Thanksgiving dinner spent with your family when your siblings range from narcissism to psychopathy tends to make the pathological seem within the range of normal."

Rossi nodded. "Sounds like fun. Hope I don't get invited to that family dinner."

However, Tara looked up sharply and caught JJ's eye, who shrugged.

Alvez added, "Ditto on that. Ah, here they are. About time guys!"

Prentiss sat down on the bench beside JJ, who had just slid over, and asked wearily, "Someone please hand me a drink and tell me what we are discussing? And it needs to be anything other than unsubs."

Alvez gestured towards Spencer as he said, "Thanksgiving dinner with a family of psychopaths."

"I was making the point that pathology is normalised in families with multiple members exhibiting abnormal psychology. I'll go get your drink, Prentiss."

Simmons stood leaning against the back of an empty chair as he said, "Woah…did I miss something?"

Rossi shook his head. "Not really. I think that Reid is just having a bad night."

* * *

As he closed the door to the garage behind him, Spencer heard his wife laugh wildly, as she exclaimed, "You are such a doofus, Alastair! I totally had that."

Spencer froze. Had she mentioned that his brother-in-law was coming to visit? Surely, he would have remembered. He placed his bag on the ground and listened as Alastair laughed and rejoined, "Like fun, you did. I was going to owwwwn you, Sissy. You can't touch me!"

The sound of a few board game pieces being knocked onto the floor was clear, as Spencer heard his wife giggle before she demanded, "Don't you dare! Don't you dare tickle me, you fiend. Stop!"

"Make me, shrimp. Confess that you were owned. Confess."

"Get off, you big dork. I'll never admit defeat."

"Think you can hold me at bay with a chair? Amateur!"

Just as Spencer quietly entered the room, he saw Charlotte collapse with laughter on the sofa and Alastair standing above her _pretending_ to tickle her. As he stood watching with them as yet unaware, Spencer noticed as Charlotte played along with Alastair's deep discomfort at any physical contact. This was clearly a routine that they had played out many times before. Yet Spencer could not help but appreciate how obviously his wife adored her brother and understood him extraordinarily well. He suddenly wondered…did she manage his own autism in a similar way? He had realised early in their relationship that her comfort with his eccentricity and various sensory issues was due to Alastair. In effect, if she hadn't had an autistic brother, it was unlikely that their relationship would have made it past the first few dates.

Spencer noticed his brother-in-law's sudden change of posture, indicating extreme discomfort, the moment that Alastair noticed his presence. "Hello, Spencer. Didn't know you were coming back today. Or did we, Sissy?"

Charlotte, however, registered nothing but delight. "Spencer!" She hopped up from the sofa and ran to him. Yet they hugged briefly, Spencer breaking off the contact out of hyperawareness of his brother-in-law's presence. Looking up at him lovingly, Charlotte exclaimed, "I had no idea that you had solved the case! You must be so relieved."

"Relieved that the ordeal is over. The outcome, however, was absolutely brutal. It would be better if we don't talk about it. It is nice to see you, Alastair. Are you staying with us?"

Alastair snorted with amusement. "Well I'm sure not staying with Charlie. Sissy here was feeling down, so I thought I'd fly up here, comfort her, and then drag her with me to Yorktown tomorrow."

Rolling her eyes, Charlotte answered in a sarcastic, flat voice, "Yes, because we have not been there enough. Yay."

Spencer shrugged as he said honestly, "I've never been."

Alastair seemed confused, as if he could not understand. "But you live here! You haven't even gone once?"

"No. I'm not opposed to it. I've just never been. I have not been to many of the historical sites actually."

"Why not? Don't you want to see where it all happened?"

"In theory, I do, however, I have read so many books about so many places that I want to see. I don't have time to travel to all them. There are always new books and new things to learn, so I usually just recreate each place in my mind."

Alastair thought about this for a moment and then answered, "I suppose that I can understand that. Are you travelling again soon?"

"For work? Not unless something unexpected comes alone, which it does more often than I would like. Why don't I go with you to Yorktown? You can give me a better tour than anyone else, I'm certain."

"Ok. There you go, Sissy. Reprieved."

Charlotte laughed, but Spencer heard her nervousness although he was certain Alastair did not. "I don't mind going with you both."

Spencer placed his hand on her lower back and smiled down at her. "It might be better if just Alastair and I go. You know how I can be when I get started on a subject."


End file.
